


The More Things Change

by otherhawk



Series: The More Things Change Verse [1]
Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's Eleven (2001), Ocean's Thirteen (2009), Ocean's Twelve (2004)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Gen, Humor, bereavement, characters as children, pre movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 129,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherhawk/pseuds/otherhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of random incidents in the lives of young Danny and Rusty. They might not have the happiest childhoods, but they always have each other...and their ability to lie, cheat and steal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been posted to fanfiction.net so you might have read it there before. I already have almost fifty chapters posted there, and I intend to post them all here, plus more. If you do read this and enjoy it, please take the time to leave kudos or a comment - I swear, it does make me write faster. Not as fast as Red Bull but fast nonetheless....

**Careers Survey**

**Question 1: What do you expect to get out of your future career?**

Danny blinked, then stared back down at the form in front of him blankly. It still said the same thing. Right. OK. He could do this. He had to – Mrs. Leitner said that if he didn't hand it in by tomorrow, she was going to fail him and call his mom. Again. Taking a deep breath, he picked up his pen. Inspiration failed to strike. He sighed loudly and kicked the leg of his desk.

It didn't help, but it made Rusty look up from his customary position, sprawled over Danny's bed surrounded by textbooks, pages of notes and candy wrappers.

"What's up?" he asked.

Danny half-twisted round to look at him. "What do I expect to get out of my future career?"

Rusty blinked. "Money? A job? A deep sense of personal satisfaction? Company car, dental plan, pension, a wife and 2.4 children?"

Danny pulled a face. "I'll take the money, I guess." He wrote a couple of Rusty's suggestions down, more or less at random.

"Is that the thing?" Rusty nodded at the form.

"Yeah," Danny answered, simply.

Rusty tilted his head back. "And you didn't - "

" - No," he said, firmly. He hadn't done it last week. He hadn't wanted to. He turned his attention to the next question, but something was bothering him. "You can't get children out of a job," he pointed out suddenly.

"It was more sort of a whole lifestyle deal," Rusty told him, absently. That made a certain amount of sense, though it did make him wonder how much daytime TV Rusty had been watching lately. "What was the next question?"

Danny looked down at the form. "Would you like to work in an office?" he read. "I said no."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rusty nod. "Good. What's a twelve letter word for tight with money?"

"Parsimonious," he said immediately. "You doing an English assignment or a crossword?"

"I'm not sure." The frustration in Rusty's voice sounded familiar.

"Oh yeah, you've got Mr Wishaw this year, haven't you?" He winced internally at the memories.

"Yeah." Rusty did not sound happy.

"Have you - ?" he began, curiously.

Rusty interrupted. " - Mind-mapped the entirety of Romeo and Juliet? Oh yeah. Last week."

Ouch. "You should've said. I would have given you my version." He'd had to do the exact same assignment three years ago.

He could feel Rusty staring at him. "Wasn't that the time that you made an argument for Romeo being a child-molester and ended up in detention for a month?"

Danny grinned. Good times. "Yeah."

"No thanks. I have enough problems keeping my grades consistent." But Danny could tell that Rusty was smiling too.

They both continued to work in silence for a while.

"It's not that there's anything wrong with working in an office," Danny felt compelled to say suddenly, returning to their previous topic of conversation.

Rusty said nothing.

"I mean, lot's of people work in offices. My mom works in an office. It can't be that bad, right?" Not that he normally wanted to do anything Mom did, but he didn't think he could blame the office.

Rusty still said nothing.

"You think I'd be bored, don't you?" Which he would be, he was sure, but he felt the need to justify himself anyway. "Can you imagine going to the same place, day in and day out, seeing the same people and doing the same things?" It sounded like hell to him.

Rusty continued to say nothing.

Danny sighed. "Yeah, I guess maybe all jobs are like that. Maybe I don't want one at all?"

"What's the alternative?" Rusty asked, at last. But Danny didn't have an answer.

**Question Six: Would you want a job that required you to use your creativity?**

Danny sighed, heavily. He was really hating this survey. "Define creativity." he said, annoyed.

"The state or quality of being creative; the ability to transcend traditional ideas, rules, patterns, relationships or the like, and to create meaningful new ideas, forms, methods, interpretations, etc." Rusty said, without looking up. Danny knew without looking that there was an open dictionary beside him.

"Funny," he scowled thoughtfully.

"What's the question?" Rusty asked. Danny told him. "Huh."

"Exactly," Danny agreed, relieved that Rusty thought the same thing.

"Well, do they mean – "

"I have no idea." He paused. "If they mean singing or art or whatever, then that's not me."

"Right," Rusty agreed, a little too quickly for Danny's tastes.

"Hey, I can be artistic. I was in the photography club, remember?" Nearly two years ago, for about two months, but it still counted.

"Firstly, we were only in that club for the darkroom," Rusty began. "And secondly, we were kicked out, remember?"

"We weren't kicked out, we were asked to leave. Politely. And it wasn't because of any lack of artistic talent." It made a difference.

"Right," Rusty grinned. "They just thought we were doing something illegal."

Actually.....He frowned. " _I_ thought we were doing something illegal."

Rusty shook his head. "Surveillance photos aren't illegal. No actual crime was committed. At that point. Or ever, as far as the photography club know."

Oh yeah. He could trust Rusty to know what he was talking about. He glanced back down at the form. "So, assuming they mean creative thinking, do we – "

" – you – " Rusty interjected.

Danny ignored him. " - want a job which uses creativity?"

Rusty shrugged. Danny sighed and wrote down 'Only in the sense of creative thinking and planning' and moved on.

**Question eleven: Are you a people person?**

Danny rolled his eyes. "I hate that phrase," he said turning to Rusty, who was just coming in the door clutching two glasses of soda and a bag of chips that Danny hadn't even known was in the kitchen. His mom had probably hidden it. She'd seized upon the idea of eating healthily, lately, after something Juliet Darcey had said. He thought it was just another thing to yell at him about, but the attention was still kinda nice.

"What phrase?" Rusty asked, setting one of the glasses down in front of Danny – right on top of the form as it happened. Oh well, considering some of the answers he'd given so far, a couple of wet stains couldn't possibly make it worse.

"'People person,'" he answered.

Rusty flopped down on top of the bed, somehow not spilling any soda on his own work. Bastard. "Ah," he said, eloquently, reaching for his books. The chips had mysteriously vanished.

Danny sighed. "It's called sharing, Rus'."

Rusty produced the packet from under a cushion. "They're mine. I found them."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Just lying around, as it were?"

"Exactly," Rusty nodded, wide-eyed and innocent.

"In my kitchen," Danny pointed out.

"Property is theft," Rusty told him smugly.

"So is stealing," Danny said, lips twitching. "Keep eating like you do, and soon you won't be able to fit into that god-awful shirt."

Rusty looked down at the shirt. There was a long pause. "This was the first new shirt I ever bought," he said, in a small voice. "Don't you like it?" He looked up at Danny, eyes huge, bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly.

Danny swallowed. Things suddenly seemed slightly out of control and he remembered the day Rusty had bought the shirt, and how happy he'd been. "I'm sorry," he said, helplessly. "I didn't mean . . . look, I don't want any chips. Keep them."

"Great," Rusty grinned, immediately brighter, and tore open the packet.

Danny closed his eyes. "Oh for . . . " he groaned. "You have no pride."

"Got plenty of that, actually," Rusty told him, pausing with a handful of chips. "I have no shame."

He shook his head. "I hate you."

"No you don't," Rusty said, between mouthfuls.

"I hate that shirt then," he snapped. Rusty just grinned.

He turned back to scowl at the form for a few moments, but Rusty was actually less annoying.

"It's just one of those stupid phrases that doesn't mean anything in particular, except that the person using it is a moron," he burst out. "I mean, do they want to know if I'm good with people, or if I like people, or what?"

"Uh huh." Danny could tell that Rusty thought he was over-thinking this. But the vagueness of the questionnaire was really annoying him.

"And anyone who describes themselves as a 'people person' is almost certainly into conning people for whatever they can get," he continued, still scowling.

"You con people. We both do," Rusty pointed out easily.

Danny shrugged. "Well, yeah, of course. But we wouldn't describe ourselves in a way that makes it sound like we do, would we?"

"The shark swam by like a bored fridge."

Danny blinked. "What?" he asked carefully. He was pretty sure that that had come out of nowhere.

"The shark swam by like a bored fridge," Rusty repeated.

Danny turned round, slightly concerned that Rus' might just have lost his mind. Rusty was staring at the page in front of him, with an unfamiliar look of complete puzzlement on his face.

"I'm supposed to explain that simile," he said, helplessly.

Danny tried to think of something sensible to say. "Does it have a context?" he asked at last.

"Not so much, no," Rusty sighed.

"It doesn't make sense." Danny said in wonderment.

"Why – "

"Look just don't ask," Danny suggested.

" - would a fridge –"

"There's no answer," he warned.

" – be bored?"

"I have no idea," he finished, glumly.

They stared at each other for a few moments. "Say that you are a people person," Rusty said finally. "People like you, you like them, and you can talk almost anyone into almost anything. Whatever they mean, you qualify."

That made sense. He scribbled his answer down, then turned back, with a grin. "Almost anyone?"

"I'm immune," Rusty claimed, deadpan.

"Right. Then how come you did my French translations last week?" Danny asked, smugly.

Rusty grinned, slightly unnerving Danny. "Oh, that's just 'cause I'm your friend," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

He couldn't help but grin back. "So it's not my extraordinary charisma?"

"Nope," Rusty said happily.

"Good to know." And it was.

**Question fourteen: Are you happy working outdoors?**

"That's wrong," Rusty said, leaning over Danny's shoulder, doughnut in hand. "You should put 'no'."

"I don't have a problem working outdoors," Danny protested.

"Yes you would," Rusty answered, wandering back to lie on the bed.

"We're out every Saturday, feeling up shoppers for pocket money." he pointed out. "That's outdoors."

"No, that's outside," Rusty answered. "Outdoor implies, I don't know - grass. Trees and shit. You know, nature."

"Oh. _Oh_." Danny considered this for a few minutes, then scribbled out his answer. "You're lucky you don't have to worry about this sort of stuff yet."

"Yeah," Rusty answered flatly.

Danny affected not to notice. "All this 'So what are you going to do with your life?' stuff. My uncle actually pointed out that I'm not getting any younger the other week."

"Your uncle Ed?" Rusty sounded hopeful. Probably something to do with the twenty bucks he won off Ed the last time he visited.

"No, uncle Harold. The banker."

Rusty snorted. "He's not getting any younger either."

"No, but his girlfriends sure are," Danny smirked. Then he sighed. "Dad wanted me to go into business with him, you know?" He already knew that Rusty did. "Wanted me to get an MBA then join the company and work my way up. He kept talking about how great it would be to work side by side, father and son. Never asked me what I want."

Rusty stayed silent. Danny didn't look at him. Nine months, and Dad's death still _hurt_

"Now my mom keeps dropping hints that I should be a lawyer. Saying how great I was in the debate club that time we were involved with the thing with Teddy Norman. Leaving all these college prospectuses open at pre law. She says I'd be good at it."

"You would be," Rusty said, noncommittally.

"That's not the point." Danny ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be a lawyer. I can't think of any job I do want. I mean, we're still young, right? Why can't we just drift along a while longer?"

"You can't think of any job you want to do?" Rusty asked curiously. "Not even the really unrealistic ones?"

"Like what?" he asked with a shrug.

"I don't know . . ." Rusty thought for a few moments. "Movie star?"

"Everyone would recognise you all the time," he objected. "It'd be really difficult to get anything done."

"Astronaut?" Rusty suggested.

"You need to be in the military first," he pointed out. "I couldn't take orders." And he was just a little bit afraid of heights, but that was another matter.

"Ball player?"

Danny grinned. "Too much effort," he admitted. There were plenty of things he was willing to work for. That wasn't one of them. "And I don't know the rules." 

"Criminal mastermind?"

"Now you're just being silly."

**Question 18: What are you good at?**

"What am I good at?" Danny asked aloud.

"Well, according to Jenny Mitchell – " Rusty began, a smirk in his voice.

Danny interrupted hastily. "Where did you hear that?"

"While I was hiding in the girl's locker room," Rusty said, casually

Danny turned round. Now _that _needed careful investigation. "Hiding . . . in the girl's locker room?" he asked slowly.__

__"Not what you think," Rusty protested. He was blushing ever so slightly. It was kind of cute, not that Danny would ever say that out loud. Or _think_ it too loud, if it came to that._ _

__"I'm sure," he said, smirking and shaking his head._ _

__"No," Rusty insisted. "Remember two weeks ago, when we were getting that stuff from the lab for Lee, and Dr. Bickerstaffe came back early? I ran distraction – and the guy's faster than he looks."_ _

__With a quick look, Danny asked if he'd been caught, and Rusty shook his head minutely, promising that Danny would have heard about _that_ long before now. Good. Quite right too._ _

__"So you hid in the girl's locker room," he said, still smirking._ _

__"In the air ducts actually," Rusty told him airily. "I just happened to end up in the locker room."_ _

__Danny shook his head. "Only you," he said wonderingly._ _

__They grinned at each other._ _

__"I always meant to ask," Danny said, changing the subject, "What did Lee want with that stuff?"_ _

__"Science fair project," Rusty said, simply._ _

__"Oh." Danny gave this the consideration it deserved. "You think we should open a book on the result?"_ _

__"First thing Monday," Rusty agreed._ _

__"By the way," he began, hesitantly. "Which one is Jenny Mitchell?"_ _

__Rusty rolled his eyes. "The blonde one, with the dimples and the big – " he paused and made a vague gesture. Danny raised an eyebrow. " – feet." Rusty finished finally, straight-faced._ _

__Ah. Yeah. He just about had a picture of her in his mind. She didn't go to his school. "And I went out with her?"_ _

__Rusty nodded. "Couple of times. Two months ago."_ _

__"Right," he said thoughtfully. "And what did I say about her?"_ _

__Rusty rolled his eyes again. "You said she was nice but she wouldn't stop giggling. Even when you were – "_ _

__"Got it." He remembered now. "And she said – "_ _

__" - yeah."_ _

__"Huh. Kind of flattering." He thought about it for a few minutes. "But I don't think I can put it down on this form."_ _

__"No." Rusty agreed. "Mrs. Leitner might take it as a recommendation."_ _

__"Ugh." Danny pulled a face. "Not what I was thinking. Or what I wanted to be thinking. Just that it's not something that I can use in a job. So what are we good at?"_ _

__"What are _you_ good at. It's your form. It's your life." Suddenly Rusty sounded annoyed, and for the first time in a long while, Danny had no idea why._ _

__He kept his tone light. "You mean you're not planning on following me around for the rest of my life, keeping me out of trouble and being my social diary?"_ _

__Rusty sighed. "Danny – "_ _

__He cut in, his voice low and sincere. " - Because I was going to do it for you." He knew, as sure as he knew anything, that Rusty could tell he was for real. They'd never learned to lie to each other._ _

__"That's not how the real world works, Danny." Rusty sounded frustrated. He had to get to the bottom of this._ _

__"Tell me," he ordered simply._ _

__"In a couple of years, you're going to go away to college," Rusty began, staring down at the floor._ _

__Danny interrupted immediately. "We'll still see each other." How could Rusty possibly think otherwise? He didn't understand._ _

__"Sure," Rusty agreed readily. "At first. But people change, Danny. You'll . . . we'll grow apart. It just happens. By the time you're twenty, we'll just nod to each other if we pass on the street."_ _

__Danny bit back his immediate denial, and tried to imagine a world in which Rusty wasn't the first person he ran to if he was in trouble. When his dad had . . . and he'd burst into Rusty's chemistry exam. And they'd spent the rest of the day, and half the night, hiding on the school roof. A world in which he couldn't trust that if Rusty needed _him_ , he wouldn't come over and throw stones at his window at three o'clock in the morning. He shivered. "Never gonna happen," he said, finally. "Not in a million years."_ _

__Rusty smiled crookedly. "Sure, Danny," he said, and Danny could hear the quiet disbelief in his voice._ _

__"You're wrong, and you're stuck with me," he said firmly. He was more sure of this than he'd ever been about anything. Why couldn't Rusty see it? "Bet you anything you like."_ _

__Rusty laughed slightly, and turned away. "Look, it's not important or anything . . . "_ _

___"Yes it is."_ _ _

__They paused, both startled by the vehemence in Danny's voice._ _

__"I'm serious," he continued, in a quieter tone. "I bet you a million dollars that by the time we're . . . " he tried to think of a suitably far off age " . . . by the time we're forty, we'll still be best friends."_ _

__"We're different ages," Rusty commented absently._ _

__"Fine. By the time _you're_ forty." That was even further off._ _

__"A million dollars?" Rusty sounded amused._ _

__"Yep. One million dollars," Danny confirmed. He stretched, walked over to the edge of the bed, where Rusty was sitting and held out his hand._ _

__Rusty shook it. "I'll be sure to track you down on my fortieth birthday," he said with a laugh that didn't quite hide the misery. He didn't _want_ to be left behind._ _

__Good thing he never would be. Danny looked him straight in the eyes. "You won't have to," he promised._ _

__There was a long silence._ _

__Danny cleared his throat. "So what do you think I should say my weaknesses are?"_ _

__Rusty tilted his head back, thoughtfully. "Kryptonite?"_ _

__*_ _

___**More years later than either of them would care to admit . . .** _ _ _

__Even though he was supposed to be watching the doorway, for the last half hour Danny's eyes had been flickering to the clock on the dashboard. He'd been waiting for this for a long time, and it wasn't as if he was the only one pulling surveillance duty. Rusty'd spot anything he missed._ _

__He stole a sideways glance and sighed. Rusty was investigating the bottom of a bag of cookies, looking for stray crumbs. If they messed this up because neither of them was paying attention, they'd never hear the end of it. Saul alone would . . ._ _

__Quickly he looked back at the entrance. Nothing was happening. Once again, his gaze drifted back to the clock, just in time to see it click over to midnight. Finally._ _

__"Happy Birthday, Rus'," he said, now at last able to keep staring straight ahead. "You owe me a million dollars."_ _

__He felt Rusty staring at him. "What?"_ _

__"Remember that bet we made when we were kids? You said we'd drift apart." He allowed himself to smirk slightly. "You were wrong."_ _

__Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rusty's expression change. Suddenly, Rusty looked vulnerable and . . . lost, chewing on his bottom lip. "You stayed friends with me . . . to win a stupid bet?"_ _

__Danny inhaled sharply. "Of course not!" he protested, shocked. "How could you think . . . " he paused suddenly, and shook his head in dawning realisation. "You don't think that at all, do you." he stated, flatly._ _

__Rusty was laughing. "You're too easy Danny."_ _

__"And you have no shame," he said severely._ _

__"I know," Rusty agreed, happily_ _

__"I thought we agreed you were going to stop doing that when you hit twenty," he complained._ _

__Rusty shrugged. "What works, works."_ _

__They both stared out the windscreen, in comfortable silence for a few moments._ _

__"The money went into your account . . . oh, about a minute and a half ago, now," Rusty said finally, glancing quickly at the clock._ _

__"The whole million dollars?" Danny asked, surprised. He'd never expected Rusty to actually pay up. It wasn't like the money meant anything to either of them. Of course, he wasn't at all surprised that Rusty knew his bank account details._ _

__" _A_ million dollars, yes. It's not my million dollars. It's just one I found."_ _

__Danny grinned. "Sort of lying around, as it were?"_ _

__"Exactly," Rusty grinned back. "Remember how we bumped into Toulour at that thing last month?"_ _

__Danny blinked. "Oh, you didn't..."_ _

__"Think he'll mind?" Rusty wondered._ _

__"Oh, I think he's going to hunt us down and try and make us pay. Again." But Danny couldn't stop laughing._ _

__After a few more minutes of quiet staring, punctuated by outbursts of giggling, Danny leaned over to Rusty. "Wanna give it another ten minutes, before we call Linus to take over, and go and get your birthday cake?"_ _

__Rusty turned, and smiled at him warmly. "Thanks, Danny."_ _

__"You haven't tasted it yet." he warned, smiling back._ _

__Rusty's eyes told him he didn't mean for the cake. Silently, he reminded Rusty that there was nothing he needed to be thanked for. Ever._ _

__He might have found his way to saying something, but that was when Victor Florentine came out the doorway and all hell broke loose. But that's largely a different story._ _


	2. Walk before you can crawl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should perhaps have said last chapter that this story is not in chronological order. Chapters are random events as I think of them, so here is a timeline that'll let you know where we are in the overall story. Trust me, it makes more sense than you think.  
>  **Timeline:  
>  1\. Walk before you can crawl - Chapter 2 - Danny is 15, Rusty is 12  
> 2\. Career Survey - Chapter 1 - Danny is 15, Rusty is 13**

"We're talking about Chicago," Danny said thoughtfully. He hadn't quite decided how much of a problem that really was.

Rusty shook his head noncommittally. "There have to be easier ways."

They were leaning against the corridor wall, watching the world go by, only talking when they were absolutely certain no-one was in earshot. Just an average day.

"Of course there are easier ways," Danny shrugged. "If we had contacts . . . " _(And if either of them was remotely old enough to be taken seriously by said contacts...)_ "But right now the best we have is Teddy Norman."

Rusty sighed and drummed his heels against the wall. "What, exactly, did Jeff say?" he asked eventually.

Danny looked sideways at him. "Well, leaving out the bits where he said that he wanted nothing to do with any of it, and to never mention his name to anyone in connection with anything, he basically said that his cousin Teddy's roommate had gone to prison, and Teddy was looking to unload his stuff. Including - "

" - a set of lock picks." Rusty didn't look happy. "He's selling his roommate's stuff?"

"Yeah." He hadn't been too impressed with that either. But he really didn't want to have to buy hair grips ever again.

Rusty sighed again and looked away as a couple of girls from Danny's class wandered past. Wandered very slowly past. Giggling. For reasons that Danny had never quite understood, every girl in school seemed to find his friendship with Rusty 'too cute for words'.

"So why can't he just mail them to us?" Rusty asked quietly, once the girls had disappeared round the corner.

Shrugging, Danny answered "Apparently he's about as twitchy as Jeff. Thinks that the FBI's intercepting his mail, or something."

Rusty nodded. "But he can't just throw them away – "

" – because he wants the money. Exactly." Danny finished.

They shared a slight grin. It was always nice to know you could rely on a person's greed.

"So how much is he after anyway?" Rusty asked.

Danny smiled easily; this was the good bit. "Twenty dollars,he said casually.

He felt the full weight of Rusty's incredulous stare and watched as Rusty leaned his head back against the wall and laughed quietly. Twenty dollars.

"Still," Rusty said slowly. "Chicago."

"Look at it this way." He paused for dramatic effect. "Life's better with lock picks."

Rusty didn't seem too impressed. "Going to put that on a t-shirt?"

"Anyway, the bus fare shouldn't be too hard to scrape together," he pointed out. "And we still have Attwood's cheques from that time. Creepy bastard should be good for a hotel room at least – you still have his signature down, right?" Of course, no hotel in its right mind would let a fifteen-year-old and a twelve-year-old stay unaccompanied, but he had every confidence that they'd find their way round that small point.

Rusty was rubbing at the corner of his mouth. Damn.

"What?" he asked, irritated that he'd missed something.

"Don't you think that your mom would mind if you just vanished for the weekend?" Rusty pointed out.

Shit. She would. If she noticed, she would. And she never _let_ him stay with Rusty, and if he said he was with anyone else, she might call their parents to check.

"You're not going on your own," he said firmly. That was just a little too horrifying to contemplate.

Rusty blinked, and for a fraction of a second he looked a little scared. Good. "I hadn't thought of that." he said, rather quickly to Danny's mind. "No, we need some unobjectionable reason for you to go to Chicago. Then we can meet up and do the thing."

Danny thought for a long moment. It would require a certain amount of sacrifice, but; "The final for that debate club thing is in Chicago," he said slowly.

Rusty looked sideways at him. "The debate club?"

He shrugged. "It's perfect," he said, almost convincingly. "Except that they already have a full team."

"Well," Rusty said casually. "We might be able to do something about that."

"Yeah," he paused. "Wanna go eat?"

Rusty just looked at him.

"Right. Stupid question," Danny agreed.

They sauntered slowly down the corridor.

"What's Teddy's roommate in the clink for anyway?" Rusty asked randomly.

Danny turned his head slowly. "...Did you just say 'clink'?"

"Yep," Rusty said immediately.

"...right." He frowned. "Semi-armed robbery."

Rusty looked at him. "Semi-armed?"

"Apparently he had the bullets but no gun." He laughed and shook his head.

Rusty scowled thoughtfully. "Sometimes I worry about the modern criminal."

*

It had proved surprisingly easy to dislodge one of the original debate team members. As it turned out Steve Marsh had really wanted to be in the school play all along, and the offer of a spot as chief understudy and prompter was enough to make him defect. Lucky for them Mike was a good guy and still owed them from when he'd staged 'The Lizard RIses' and they'd 'acquired' all the props he needed. (And that whole slog would have been easier if they'd had a set of lock picks, for a start.)

After that, it was a simple matter of Danny fast-talking his way into the empty spot – especially easy as Mr. Wishaw, the supervisor, loved him. Something to do with an essay on 'Catch 22' and an argument about sledding. Danny couldn't help it if he was brilliant.

The other guys on the team were still a little suspicious of his motives. Reasonably enough, Danny had to admit. Even now, while they were backstage being fussed over by their doting parents, he was aware of being watched. Apparently they were all just a little too smart to believe he was in the club just for kicks. As Julian Meadows shot him a particularly vindictive glance, Danny stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered out into the corridor in search of a more relaxing atmosphere.

So far things were going off without a hitch. He was pretty confident that they'd win – the team had been practicing constantly for three weeks now, and he and Rusty had been spending so much time in the library doing research that Danny was actually beginning to like the place. They couldn't possibly be more prepared – and rather more to the point Rusty had stolen a copy of the opposing team's arguments earlier that day.

"Daniel." He turned round slowly to see his mom bearing down on him. Well, no lucky streak lasted forever. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Your tie's all crooked."

He batted her hands out of the way and stepped back. "I'll sort it later, mom."

She looked at him for a long moment, lips pursed. "Just be sure that you do. I won't have people saying my son looks scruffy."

Huh. He had been described as a lot of things. Scruffy had never been one of them. "I said I will."

She smiled at him suddenly with something that was probably supposed to be maternal warmth. "Oh, Daniel. I'm so glad that you're finally spending your time constructively instead of hanging around with that Ryan boy." Danny tensed and did his best not to step away. "Now, I know you're fond of Robert - "

"His name is Rusty," he cut in quietly.

She ignored him as she had any number of times in the past. " – But you need to think about your future." Finally she stood back and smiled at him. She didn't seem to notice that his smile was fake.

"Now, I'm going to go and take my seat. So you go out there and win, and maybe I'll finally have something to be proud of."

He watched as she bustled off. "You can come out now," he said, dryly.

Rusty materialised at his shoulder. He had a split lip and a bag of cookies. "I thought she wasn't going to come?"

"Yeah, well, she heard that my dad and Emma were planning on being here, so - " he shrugged, " – suddenly it was time for the supportive-mother bit."

Rusty raised an eyebrow. "Your dad's here too?"

"Nah, he had to work late." 'Again,' he _didn't_ say.

Rusty said nothing but offered him a cookie.

Peanut butter flavoured. And home-baked. Very nice, actually.

"Alice Munroe gave them to me," Rusty said in response to the unspoken question. Then he frowned. "I'm not sure why."

Danny paused in mid-bite and turned to stare, but Rusty appeared to be serious. OK. That might be a conversation for another time.

"Well, well." Great. Julian Meadows had just managed to sneak up on them. "Ocean. Feeling relaxed, are we?"

"Julian," Danny nodded politely. "I am, as it happens."

Julian walked up, his gaze sweeping over them. He seemed to dismiss Rusty as being beneath notice. Not the only one to make that mistake. Danny forced himself to remember that Julian wasn't actually a mark. "It seems to me that the only result of all of this that could possibly be of interest to a degenerate like you is the trip to Chicago, am I correct?"

Danny smiled lazily. Not much point in denying that. "You're very perceptive." he murmured.

Julian stood a little taller. "I'm not like those idiots you normally deal with," he boasted. "Now, I'm willing to make a deal." His eyes took on an unnatural light. "This is my last year to win this competition. I'm going to take that trophy home, do you understand?"

Danny nodded. He was aware of Rusty, grinning beside him. Good thing someone was amused, because it didn't seem like Julian had much of a sense of humour.

"I know you're going to give it your best tonight because we don't win, you don't get your little trip. But here's the thing. You work just as hard when we get to Chicago, and we'll cover for whatever sordid business you've got planned. Do we have an agreement?"

Not that much of a hardship. He'd planned on doing his best in the final anyway – he might not have much in the way of morals, but he had his ethics. "Fine by me." He held his hand out and after a moment, Julian shook it.

"Good," Julian said briskly. "Now I'm going to get ready. I suggest you do the same. And for pity's sake, sort your tie."

They watched him walk off.

"Well," Rusty said eventually. "He seemed – "

" – oh, yeah," Danny groaned.

Rusty frowned. "And also kind of – "

"Completely." He'd had three weeks to observe the guy in close proximity after all.

There was a pause. "I should get back out front," Rusty said suddenly.

Danny nodded. "What did you come back here for anyway?" he asked, curious.

Rusty looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I just wanted..." he trailed off.

Now Danny was definitely intrigued. "What?"

Rusty was staring at his sneakers. "I just wanted to say 'good luck'," he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

"Oh," Danny blinked. They stood awkwardly in silence for a few seconds.

Then Rusty looked up and smiled dazzlingly, straight at him. "Good luck, Danny," he said softly and stepped forwards and fixed Danny's tie.

Danny grinned to himself. Almost show time.

*

It was definitely colder in Chicago. Even accepting that it was getting close to winter; well, it just hadn't been this cold back home. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and hoped that Rusty's bus would be on time. Hanging round bus stations wasn't his idea of a good time. In any weather.

Not to mention that if he was going to be one hundred percent honest with himself (a dangerous precedent, but what could you do?) he was a little worried. Obviously he trusted Rusty – more than anyone else in the world if it came to it – but when he'd casually asked if this would be his first time out of the state, Rusty had given him a look and said it would be his first time out of town.

There was a very small voice at the back of Danny's mind that kept yelling that every single part of this plan was insane.

People started pushing their way through the doors towards him. He breathed a sigh of relief; that should be the bus in. He _knew_ that Rusty could look after himself, but he was always going to worry. So many things that could happen. And he didn't like splitting up.

"Fred! Cousin Fred!" And that sounded like Rusty. Though why he was suddenly Fred was a bit of a mystery.

He turned and saw Rusty running towards him, closely followed by a sweet-looking old lady. Great. Just...great.

To Danny's surprise Rusty threw his arms around him and it took a stunned moment for him to return the hug warmly. Just for appearances, of course, for the sake of whatever Rusty was pulling.

"She was sitting next to me. Wasn't going to leave until she knew someone was here to meet me," Rusty whispered.

Well that was that explained.

Rusty skipped back and started babbling happily. He looked a lot younger than usual. Neat trick, really. "Fred! Guess what! I'm on the soccer team! And Tony said that I was really good, 'cause I scored three goals and he only got one!"

"That's great, kiddo." Hopefully the slight pause when he fell over the name was unnoticeable. He nodded politely to the woman standing behind Rusty. "I hope he didn't cause any trouble." He noted sardonically that the candy wrappers falling out of Rusty's pockets matched the large bag of candy he could see peeking out of the woman's bag. And to think he'd been worried.

"Oh no," she reached out and ruffled Rusty's hair in a way that Danny knew he hated. "Jamie was just adorable. I only wish my grandsons were half as polite."

Danny bit the inside of his mouth. He really had to work at not giggling. "Well, thank you." He turned to Rusty and just managed to resist the temptation to ruffle his hair himself. "Now come on Jamie, we're meeting mom at the café. She said I should buy you a hot chocolate."

"That'll be nice I'm sure. Now, Jamie," She put a hand on Rusty's shoulder, and Danny stopped laughing inside; he knew that Rusty was struggling not to flinch. "You take care of yourself, do you hear me? Oh, and take these." She pulled the sack of candy out of her bag and held it out. Danny watched in amusement as Rusty murmured polite refusals before the bag vanished inside his rucksack. "Since you liked them so."

And then, with a steady stream of "Goodbyes", backward glances and little waves, she was gone.

Rusty immediately started eating the candy.

Danny shook his head in amusement. "The whole 'Stranger Danger' thing just passed right over your head, didn't it?"

"She was nice," Rusty protested.

"Next time, take a book," Danny advised. "Don't just lie to your fellow passengers."

Rusty turned his head to one side. "Are you really going to buy me a hot chocolate?"

"Buy your own, _Jamie_."

Grinning, Rusty started looking round. "Have you seen the ticket desk?"

"We don't need to get a bus right now." Danny pointed out. "The hotel is only six blocks away."

Rusty looked at him like he was an idiot. "They'll be able to tell us what buses we can get to Woodlawn tomorrow."

"Oh. Right." He hadn't really planned that far ahead.

"That's why you keep me around." One of the reasons, anyway.

It was as they stepped out of the bus station that Danny noticed Rusty shivering.

"Should have worn a coat," he pointed out half smug and half chiding.

Rusty shrugged awkwardly, and Danny suddenly found himself trying to remember the last time he'd seen Rusty wearing his coat. It had been last winter. And the sleeves had been getting short then.

He sighed. "Well. At least it proves that you've finally grown."

Rusty looked at him. "I'm tall for my age," he remarked, casually.

"But short for your height."

They walked in thoughtful silence for a few steps.

"That made no sense," Rusty said, at the exact same moment as Danny sighed; "I know."

Dismissing the issue, Danny shook his head. "We need to get you a coat."

"It can wait," Rusty said quickly. Pretty obvious that he was worried about money. So was Danny for that matter. It was already going to be tight.

That really, really wasn't the point though. "If you freeze to death, I'll have no-one to talk to."

"Well, as long as you're being selfish about it," Rusty said understandingly.

"So, shall we hit the shops?"

Rusty considered it. "Nah. We should get cash first."

Made sense – they didn't know the security arrangements in the shops here, but getting cash was the same all over.

He looked round carefully but his gaze finally settled on a tall man in a business suit. Perfect.

Rusty caught his eye and smiled slightly. "So she said – " he began loudly, stepping sideways as though ready to go round the man.

"That's right," Danny agreed absently, dodging to the other side. Looked like there was something in the guy's back pocket and inside his jacket.

"And did you tell her?" Danny just saw Rusty make the lift, but only because he'd been looking. At the same time his own hand slipped into the guy's back pocket and grinned mentally as his hand brushed a leather wallet.

It was over in rather less than a second, and when they were well away, Danny leaned in close to Rusty. "Tell her what?" he asked curiously.

"Like I was listening." Rusty paused mid-step and produced a packet of cigarettes. Ah. So that was what the guy kept in his jacket.

"Now those will stunt your growth," he said, mildly disapprovingly, as he watched Rusty light up.

"After spending hours on that bus, I need one," Rusty answered simply.

Danny could sympathise. After the trip up with the debate club he'd had to vanish for a quick smoke himself. Fortunately the travel sick excuse not only got him out of the afternoon's excursion to the Chicago Cultural Centre, it had also given him an excuse to disappear at every rest stop along the way.

Rusty lit a second cigarette and passed it over. "What did you get?"

Danny took a long drag before producing the wallet.

"Ah," Rusty said intelligently.

Leafing through it, Danny raised an eyebrow. "There's got to be a hundred and fifty dollars here. That'll get you a new coat."

"And keep us fed for a week and more." Rusty was grinning happily.

There was a cough behind them. Danny spun round and found himself face to face with the owner of the wallet, who reached out and grabbed the pair of them by the collars.

Well. This was a new experience.

"Boys. You are in serious trouble."

Danny was too busy squirming to pay attention to the man's quiet voice. He twisted, half trying to break free and half-trying to see how Rusty was doing.

Shit. Rusty wasn't even trying to get free. For a moment Danny thought that he'd simply frozen, but then he saw the blankness in Rusty's eyes. And he was still clutching the lit cigarette and he was staring at the hand on his shoulder and Danny couldn't see a single way in which that could end well.

"Let go of him. Now," Danny demanded, with hell of a lot more assurance than he felt.

To his complete astonishment the guy let both of them go, with an approving look at Danny and a concerned glance at Rusty. Damn. Normally people weren't that perceptive.

Thinking quickly, Danny faked a stumble and reached a hand out to Rusty to steady himself. He squeezed Rusty's left forearm gently, hoping desperately that Rusty would understand his silent question; 'Are you with me?'

He was relieved when Rusty stood up straight, and calmly said "So I suppose you want your wallet back, huh?"

The man looked amused. "For a start."

Danny handed it over; wishing that he'd thought to take the cash out immediately.

"Thanks," the guy said dryly. He stood staring at them for a few moments and Danny wished he could think of something to do. If they ran now, one of them would probably be able to get away, but there was the problem right there.

"So what now?" he asked. "Are we all going out for pizza or what?"

The guy looked somewhat amused. "My name's Robert Caldwell. You can call me Bobby." He waited, expectantly.

Something told Danny that this wasn't a good time to spin a line. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rusty nod almost imperceptibly. "I'm Danny Ocean and this is Rusty Ryan."

"Well, Danny – Rusty – " he nodded at them in turn, "I have some things I'd like to discuss with you."

"We were always told never to talk to strangers," Rusty said cheerfully. Danny took a moment out from worrying to shoot him a glare.

"Don't worry, I'm a father myself." That wasn't all that reassuring, but the way that Bobby's eyes lit up as he continued was. "Got a new son. Three weeks old. Want to see a picture?"

Danny and Rusty exchanged an incredulous glance. "Uh, sure," Danny said hesitantly.

Bobby pulled a stack of photos out of his wallet. "See?" he proclaimed proudly.

They looked. To Danny all the pictures seemed to show was a baby from a variety of angles. "He's cute," he said, sincerity dripping from every word. It was the sort of thing he'd heard his mom say to his cousin last month.

"He has your jaw," Rusty commented. Danny looked at him sharply then studied the pictures closer. Huh. He could just about see that, actually.

"His name's Linus," Bobby was actually smiling now, and it was difficult to see how he'd ever looked remotely intimidating.

"Good name," Danny said with a disarming grin.

"We thought so." Bobby put away the photos and his expression turned serious. "Now. I wanted to talk to you about that little lift you just made."

This conversation was seeming less and less likely to end up with 'So we're going to the police.' "What about it?" he asked.

"Don't get me wrong. You're good. You've got a lot of potential. But you aren't quite as good as you think you are."

Danny blinked; this conversation was definitely heading in a weird direction.

"You're a thief," Rusty stated, and Danny found himself nodding. It was the only thing that made sense.

"Among other things," Bobby said, slightly evasively.

"So," Danny took a deep breath. "How did you spot us?"

"First of all, your double-team bit is good. You must have been working it for a while."

"Few years," Rusty said casually.

"But you," he turned to Danny, "Need to work on not watching your partner's hands when he makes the lift, and you," he turned to Rusty, "Need to stop telegraphing with your shoulder. You turn your whole body just before you reach. And both of you need to learn to be more subtle when you're sizing up your mark."

Danny took a moment to consider. Made a lot of sense, really. "So what can we do about it?"

"You need practice. If you got a couple of hours, I'd be willing to give you a few tips."

Sounded good to Danny, but he turned to Rusty, just in case. "So what - ?"

Rusty nodded. " - could be – "

" - on the other hand – " Danny frowned, but Rusty quickly shook his head.

" - don't think so," he said reassuringly.

OK, then. Danny turned back to Bobby. "We're in."

Bobby looked from one to the other, seeming confused. "Do you two always do that?"

"Do what?" they asked in unison, puzzled.

Bobby shook his head. "Never mind."

*

They spent the next couple of hours practicing picking pockets; first on Bobby and on each other, and then – once Bobby gave his approval - on unsuspecting members of the public. Afterwards, Bobby actually did take them out for pizza. It was all a little strange.

"So, you got a place to stay?" Bobby asked, as they'd been preparing to leave.

"Yeah," Danny nodded. Technically, they weren't sure if the plan for Rusty to check into the hotel was going to work, but no matter how nice Bobby had been so far, well, it was a little early to be trusting him.

"And it's safe?" Bobby was staring at them intently.

Danny suddenly realised that Bobby didn't necessarily know that they weren't in Chicago permanently. They'd kept all conversation purposefully vague. Fortunately Rusty saved him the trouble of answering. "It's good."

"Good." Bobby seemed to relax. He reached into his wallet. "Here. Take these." He handed them a business card each. "You ever need me for anything, call me. I mean that. Anything at all." He looked at them sternly and Danny suddenly found himself envying Bobby's kid.

He nodded quickly. "Thank you," he managed.

Bobby looked at his watch and swore. "Sorry. Molly's going to kill me. Now, you two take care. And I _will_ see you around."

"We will," Danny promised.

"And thanks," Rusty added.

*

They walked to the hotel in silence. On the whole, it was shaping up to be an interesting sort of day.

Just outside the door Rusty froze, his hand in the pocket of his new coat. "Huh."

Danny looked round; that had sounded serious. "What?"

Rusty pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. "I'd say about a hundred and fifty dollars."

Bobby's one hundred and fifty dollars. "Huh. And you didn't - ?"

" - Of course not," Rusty interrupted indignantly. Danny hadn't seriously thought it for a second.

"We had money," he pointed out. "He watched us getting money."

He watched Rusty's jaw clench. "I don't like – "

"- I know." Come to that, he wasn't too happy about it either. On the other hand; "We were happy enough to steal it in the first place..."

Rusty looked at him like he was insane. "So we should just – "

" – Can you think of anything else we can do?" he demanded.

Sighing heavily, Rusty shook his head. "I don't like it."

Well. They were pretty much going to have to put up with it. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing at the hotel.

Rusty nodded, and ducked inside. Danny counted to thirty in his head, then followed.

He joined the queue at the front desk immediately behind Rusty, who once again was looking very young, and was staring constantly at the door as though waiting for someone, the cheque clutched in his outstretched hand. Oh, he was _good_.

As Rusty reached the desk, Danny contrived to look like he wasn't eavesdropping. Not exactly difficult.

"Can I help you, son?"

Rusty appeared to stare desperately at the door one last time. "Uh, my dad, he uh, asked me to give you this." He handed the cheque to the amused-looking concierge. "And to say . . . uh, to say . . ." Danny could just picture his face – wide-eyed, biting his lip, clearly panicked. "To-say-that-we-gotta-reservation-under-Attwood." he finished in a rush.

"A reservation under Attwood?" She looked at the book in front of her. "Yes, I've got that here, and there's no problem with the cheque, but I really need to speak to your father."

There was a slight pause. "He's outside arguing with the driver. He asked me to . . . he'll be real mad at me." That voice was so small that it broke Danny's heart. And he _knew_ that Rusty was an unprincipled, unscrupulous liar.

The concierge had no such defence. "Well, all right. Just this once. Here's the key. Give it to your father and tell him that he'll need to come and sign the book."

"Thank you, thank you." Rusty chirped happily. Then he turned and ran towards the door, as if he'd seen someone. "Dad!"

Danny stepped up to the desk, before the concierge could realise that there was no-one there. "Excuse me," he smiled. "I wonder if you could help me. I'm in room 618, and the phone doesn't seem to be working." Which, of course, was because calling-out had been disabled at Mr. Wishaw's request, and he was about to endure yet another lecture on the subject, but that wasn't the point.

The point was, that they'd just successfully scammed their way into a hotel. Now there was something to be proud of.

*

Sleep was difficult. And not just because Timothy was snoring at roughly the same volume and pitch as a chainsaw, though that definitely didn't help. The unfamiliar surroundings – the unfamiliar people – were unnerving. It wasn't just that he wasn't used to sharing a room with three – relative – strangers, though every time anyone moved, or a bed squeaked, he spent five minutes trying to figure out exactly who it was, and if they were awake, or if they were sneaking out of bed. It was actually pretty exhausting. And still he was awake, staring at the ceiling, and pondering exactly how many things could go wrong tomorrow.

It was after he caught himself wondering what would happen if it turned out that Teddy Norman really was under surveillance by the FBI that he finally figured that enough was enough. He grabbed his coat, shuffled into a pair of shoes and headed towards the door.

"Danny?" He froze; that was clearly Roger's voice, even if it was just a whisper. "Where are you going?"

Turning round, he could just make out Roger sitting up in bed. "Just stepping outside. I'll be back before morning." he whispered back. "Don't worry; I'm not leaving the hotel."

Roger nodded in the near-darkness, and lay back down. Well, that was surprisingly easy. He slipped out of the door and padded downstairs to Rusty's room.

Feeling somewhat silly, he knocked on the door and waited. It was a couple of minutes until it opened a crack.

"Yeah?" Rusty's voice.

"'S me."

The door swung open completely, just in time for him to see Rusty walking back into the room. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, over his shoulder.

"Timothy snores." he answered, closing the door behind him. The room looked about the same size as his, but there were only two beds, and a TV was blaring out some sitcom that Danny didn't recognise. "Hey, there's no TV upstairs."

Rusty shrugged, and flopped onto one of the beds. "You get what you pay for."

"We're not paying for anything." Danny pointed out. He was about to lie down on the other bed, when he noticed that the blanket was all twisted up, the mattress was crooked, and half the pillows were on the floor. Turning to Rusty, he raised an eyebrow.

"Figured that both beds should look slept in," Rusty answered, without looking at Danny.

Danny picked up the pillows and said nothing.

"I might have got a little carried away," Rusty admitted after a minute.

Danny shook his head, made himself comfortable on the bed, and settled in to watch TV.

"Want some M&Ms?" Rusty offered, after ten minutes or so of silence. "Got them out the mini bar."

That bore closer investigation. He glanced inside the mini bar. As he might have predicted, nearly everything except the alcohol had gone. (And that was something of a relief. No matter how little the age gap might mean to them, well, twelve seemed a little too young to be drinking to Danny.) "Isn't all that stuff really expensive?"

Rusty sat up, looking a little surprised. "There was no price list..."

"I'm pretty sure I remember hearing that prices in hotel mini bars are daylight robbery."

"Well, I guess we weren't planning on paying anyway," Rusty pointed out, lying back down.

Fair point. Danny grabbed the last can of Dr. Pepper and a Snickers bar and returned to the bed and TV watching.

"Mind if I turn it off?" Rusty yawned, when the program was done.

"Sure." Danny could barely keep his eyes open. Seemed likely that sleep would be a lot easier to come by now.

*

Sneaking out of the thing had been surprisingly easy. It was being held in a school, so all he had to do was wait until Mr. Wishaw was distracted by one of the stalls, and duck out of another door. He could rely on the debate team swearing blind all day that they'd seen him just a moment ago, and that he'd run off to look at the presentation on Old English, or whatever. Provided of course, that he showed up at the last-minute rehearsal at five. Otherwise, he was toast.

Getting back into town was also pretty simple – thanks mainly to Rusty having taken the time to write down half the bus timetables in Chicago.

And finding Rusty had been really easy, as he was exactly where he'd said he'd be – in the window booth of the café next to the hotel, sitting behind a giant mug of . . . well, it appeared to be a giant mug of whipped cream and marshmallows, but Danny was prepared to believe that there was some hot chocolate or something buried underneath it. Probably.

No, the difficult bit had come after they got off the bus in Woodlawn and discovered that their map didn't quite seem to match up with the streets.

"Maybe down that way?" Danny suggested, after around half an hour of fruitless wandering.

"We've been down there already." Rusty didn't take his eyes off the map.

Danny squinted thoughtfully. "You sure?" It didn't look that familiar. But then, nothing did.

"We came up it, then we went down there," he pointed at a different street, "then we came up there – "

" – And now we're lost," Danny finished gloomily.

Rusty shrugged. "More temporarily misplaced."

"Lost." Danny said firmly.

Rusty handed the map over. "Want a shot?"

"Sure." At this stage it couldn't do any harm. He stared at the map for several minutes, but couldn't make any more sense of it than Rusty. He sighed. "I think we might need to swallow our pride and ask for directions."

"Yeah."

After looking round, Danny stepped out in front of a woman pushing a stroller. "Excuse me," he began politely.

She looked up at them with a smile. "Yes, dear?"

"Do you know where Marquette Street is?" Rusty asked with a smile.

"Let me think, now." They waited. "Oh yes, it's just down there." She pointed down the street that Danny had indicated in the first place.

"Thank you ma'am." She smiled vaguely at them and walked off.

Danny turned to Rusty with a smirk. "You know – "

" - yep," Rusty said flatly.

"I'm just saying – " he tried again, but Rusty cut him off.

"We had been down there before. We must just have missed it."

Yeah, that was probably true. But all the same; "I told you so."

After that, finding the place was pretty easy and they waited on the door while Teddy Norman tried to figure out if they were a threat or not.

"Come inside," he said finally. "Quickly."

The hall was cramped and smelt of damp. Teddy didn't seem inclined to invite them any further into the house. "Are you sure you weren't followed.?"

"We were careful," Danny replied seriously.

Teddy looked them over sharply. "I was expecting somebody older," he said suspiciously. "Who's behind you?"

"Nobody." Danny was caught off guard.

"We're an independent operation," Rusty put in.

That seemed to satisfy Teddy for the moment. "Have you got the money?"

"Have you got the lock picks?" Danny countered.

"Whoah, whoah!" Teddy yelled, unexpectedly. "Are you crazy? Don't ever say that. Merchandise. Ask about merchandise."

Danny resisted the urge to meet Rusty's eyes. Keeping a straight face was already hard enough. "OK. Have you got the merchandise?"

"Just a minute." Teddy vanished into one of the other rooms, and Danny bit his lip and looked at Rusty, who gave a half-shrug. Yeah. That was pretty much Danny's opinion too.

"Here they are." Teddy reappeared, clutching a small leather case, which he opened to show a gleaming set of lock picks. Beautiful. "Now. You got the money?"

Rusty pulled a couple of notes out of his pocket. "Twenty dollars, as agreed."

Teddy's eyes narrowed. "I'm changing the agreement. Fifty."

The little shit. Fifty dollars was still less than they'd be willing to pay, but there was a principle involved here. "Twenty-two," he offered.

"Forty-five." Great. If the asshole was going down in fives, that would make it easier.

"Twenty-four fifty," Rusty cut in. Brilliantly, in Danny's opinion.

Teddy blinked. "Forty?" He was sounding a little confused. Probably expected them to haggle in round numbers.

"Twenty-seven dollars and thirty eight cents." Danny countered.

"Thirty." Hah!

They both said "Done." just before Teddy realised his mistake and said "No, wait thirty-five."

"Nice doing business with you." Rusty said casually as he added another note to the pile and handed it over to the glowering Teddy. Danny was examining the lock picks carefully. This was going make life easier. And much more fun.

After they got outside, Rusty turned to him with a knowing smirk. "So," he began. "You should be getting back to the thing, right?"

He probably should. There was always the chance, however unlikely, that Mr. Wishaw would figure out he was gone. Still. He smiled. "We've got time to see the sights."

To his amusement, Rusty pulled a guidebook out of his pocket. "That's what I figured."

*

He honestly just couldn't resist. It was an astonishingly bad idea – he had no idea what he'd say if he was caught – but picking the door to Rusty's hotel room seemed so much cooler than just knocking.

This time he hadn't even tried to sleep; he'd just waited until the other three had dozed off before he snuck downstairs. They hadn't discussed it; but in all probability Rusty was expecting him.

Or not, he thought, as the lock finally 'clicked' and the door swung open. The TV was on full-blast again, and Rusty was bouncing on the bed. He was facing the wall, so he hadn't seen Danny yet.

Choking back a laugh, and keeping his face blank, Danny coughed politely. He had to admit, he was a little amused as Rusty spun round – in mid-air, no less – lost his footing and fell to the floor between the beds, out of Danny's view.

Danny stepped into the room and closed the door firmly behind him. "You just fell off the bed," he stated, unnecessarily.

"I noticed, thanks," Rusty's muffled voice came from floor-level, a second before he stood up and dusted himself off, self-consciously. "The lock picks work fine, then."

"Best thirty dollars we ever spent," Danny grinned.

There was a knock at the door. That wasn't good.

He glanced at Rusty. "Room service?" he asked quietly.

Rusty shook his head. "Too risky." Yeah, they probably would have noticed that there was no-one in the room but Rusty.

The knocking came again. "Ocean. I know you're there. Open the door.

Rusty frowned "Isn't that – "

" - Julian Meadows. Yeah." Really not good.

Not seeing much of a choice, Danny opened the door. "Yeah?"

To Danny's slight surprise, Julian wasn't still clutching his trophy – the guy had barely let go of it all evening. He stepped aside and let Julian push his way into the room, where he immediately stopped and stared, open-mouthed at Rusty.

"Julian," Danny prompted, figuring that the best thing to do was to act like nothing was wrong. "What do you want?"

"He's here." Julian turned back to Danny.

"Yeah." Danny waited for something more.

"He can't be here. What the hell are you thinking, Ocean? I mean, Jesus! You can't just drag your little sidekick to Chicago! Do his parents even know where he is?"

Sidekick. Right. Danny made a mental note to screw Julian over the next chance he got. "What did you want, Julian?" he asked again.

Julian shook his head slowly. "Look, I've been thinking – and this only makes me more certain. I need to tell someone what you've been doing."

Shit. "We had a deal," he said, far calmer than he felt.

"I know." To his credit, Julian did look slightly ashamed. "But I should never have agreed. You can't go wandering around a strange city without supervision. And you certainly can't leave a child to stay by himself. Anything could happen. Can't you see that?"

Danny opened his mouth to point out that – whatever their actual age – neither of them were children, but Rusty stepped forward.

"You're pretty into all this debate team stuff, aren't you Julian," Rusty said, lazily. "It is all right if I call you Julian, isn't it?"

Julian nodded stiffly, apparently waiting to see where Rusty was going with this. Danny was pretty curious himself.

"Now, by my understanding, your participation is dependent on academic results, right? So, if – just for example – it was found out that someone had copied their English exam off of Unity Freeman, well, that would be a problem, wouldn't it?"

Oh, this was good. "They'd flunk English. Be booted off the team," he put in, ostensibly talking to Rusty.

"Do you think they'd have to give their nice, shiny trophy back?" Rusty asked thoughtfully.

Danny smiled – or at least showed his teeth – staring at Julian. "Anything's possible."

"This is blackmail," Julian whispered hoarsely.

"Right," Danny agreed. "Is it working?"

Julian glared at the floor. "I don't have a choice. I'll keep my mouth shut." To Danny, he seemed to be telling the truth, but he glanced at Rusty for a second opinion. An infinitesimal smile. Right. They were probably safe then.

"I'll see you in the morning, Julian," Danny said, firmly sweeping the other boy to the door. He left without any more fuss.

Once the door closed, they both collapsed on the nearest bed.

"Still," Rusty began, after a couple of minutes. "It's been fun, right?"

Danny closed his eyes and smiled. "We should do it again sometime."

"I've always wanted to go to Disneyland," Rusty said thoughtfully.

Why not?


	3. The Lies We Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Timeline:  
>  1\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 2\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 3\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16 **

He wasn't _worried_ – not yet anyway. A little concerned, perhaps, but definitely not worried. After all, they hadn't made any definite plans – except that they almost always met here at recess. Casually he scanned the crowds of students. Rusty still wasn't there. Silently drumming his fingers against the wall beside him, he considered his options. In all probability Rusty would turn up in a few minutes. He'd probably been kept late after class, or got a line on some business for them or something. That's what he'd assume normally. Except the way their life had been going for the past six weeks, any change to their unofficial routine was unlikely to be anything so straightforward.

"He was escorted to the nurse's office before first period., said a voice behind him. Danny turned round to see Mike from the year above standing there. He didn't bother asking how he'd known who Danny was looking for. As much as he hated the idea of being predictable, some things really couldn't be helped.

Besides, there were far more important concerns right now. "How'd he look?" He managed to keep his voice neutral. He was getting really good at that.

"Like he got hit by a truck. But then, when doesn't he these days?" Mike was looking at him, and Danny had no idea what he was expecting. He was right though. God, what a mess.

He nodded jerkily. "Thanks."

As he walked off, Mike called after him. "Danny!"

He half-turned back. "What?"

But Mike just shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

*

Sneaking into the nurse's office was child's play, though admittedly he waited until after the next class had gone in, providing enough noise to cover him. The nurse was almost certainly next door, in the main admin office, drinking coffee and gossiping with the secretaries. That was how she spent most of her time, whether she had a patient or not. Still, he was cautious opening the door, just in case, but there was only one person in the room.

Rusty was lying on the bed furthest from the door, knees drawn up to his chest, icepack clamped to the side of his face. He turned his head when Danny came in, and smiled broadly. With the amount of dark purple bruises Danny could see covering his face, he had trouble believing that even _that_ didn't hurt.

As he crossed the room, Rusty sat up and swung his legs off the bed, making room for Danny to kneel on the bed beside him and take the icepack out of his unresisting fingers. It had melted quite a bit. As usual, Rusty tilted his head back, letting him see the worst of the damage. It was a little stupid maybe, but he was oddly grateful for that. It helped to think that he could do _something_.

There were bruises all the way down the side of Rusty's face. Looked like they continued under his sweater too. On the plus side, the way he'd bounced up, suggested there wasn't anything too serious. But he was wearing long sleeves, which in this weather probably meant . . . he used his free hand to pull up Rusty's shirt sleeve. Rusty rolled his eyes but said nothing. There was a dark, hand-print shaped bruise on Rusty's forearm. Like he'd been grabbed roughly to stop him from getting away. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but judging by the reassuring smile that came his way he'd been something less than successful. Still. Anyone else would probably have thought he didn't care in the slightest. Wasn't in the least bit consumed by an all-encompassing rage. Fooling Rusty was always going to be just a little bit impossible. And he honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

Placing the melting icepack firmly on Rusty's arm for him to hold in place, he headed to the small freezer in the corner of the room to get another for Rusty's face.

There was only one left. Damn. Danny couldn't help but wonder at exactly what point a school nurse became negligent. Still, he retrieved it and sat back beside Rusty, leaning in close and pressing the ice to his cheek.

"That's cold," Rusty complained immediately.

"It's supposed to be," Danny told him, matter-of-factly.

"Just because you got top marks in that first aid class," Rusty grumbled.

Danny didn't bother answering. They both knew exactly why he'd studied so hard for that, and it wasn't in order to practice the kiss of life with Ami Sato, fun as that had been.

"So what's the story today?" he asked instead.

Rusty shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Danny's. "I told them I'd fallen off my skateboard. Dropped enough hints to let them think I'd really been in a fight outside of school."

"Didn't you use that one last month?" he asked, frowning.

"They know I live in a rough neighbourhood." Rusty didn't sound concerned, so Danny assumed that the teachers had eaten the story up with their usual, tutting disapproval.

"You could always tell the truth," he suggested, keeping his voice light.

"I made my decision," Rusty sounded tired, and he knew he shouldn't push it. But it had been a long time since he last asked.

"You could change your mind."

"But I haven't." And Rusty's tone was final and Danny knew the topic was closed.

"Concussion?" he asked instead.

Rusty shook his head slightly, dislodging Danny's hand and the icepack momentarily. "Nah. Little bit dizzy when I stand up, but that's it."

That was hardly surprising. "They give you anything?"

Another head shake.

"You told them that it didn't hurt that bad," he concluded, rolling his eyes.

"How do you know I was lying?" Rusty smirked slightly.

Danny just looked at him.

"Joking," Rusty muttered. "There's some painkillers in my bag. I took a couple before I got on the bus."

Danny looked at his watch. "You probably shouldn't take any more just yet."

"Uh huh." OK. So he'd already figured that.

There was a pause. "Danny?" Rusty began finally, staring at the floor in front of him.

"Yeah?" he asked cautiously.

"You really think they'd believe me?"

He closed his eyes, and thought about last time, and about six weeks ago. He almost wished he could lie. "No. I don't."

They fell silent. He casually leaned his arm on Rusty's shoulder, as if he was just trying to hold the ice pack in a better position. Equally casually Rusty turned and leaned back into him, as if he was too tired to sit up straight. At least they had their stories worked out if anyone asked. But for the moment, it was comfortable and comforting and everything they needed.

The instant they heard footsteps outside the door, they both sat up straight and exchanged a long look. No point in Danny trying to sneak out now. They'd need to bluff their way through it.

The nurse stepped into the room and stopped dead the moment she saw him. She was probably a little surprised. "Good morning, Mrs. Rosenthal," he said, smoothly.

He had to hand it to her, she recovered pretty well. "Mr. Ocean. I should have known.

Yeah. To be perfectly honest, she probably should have. He smiled sweetly at her. "I just had to check if my friend was all right."

She looked from him to Rusty and back again. "Yes, well. He's fine." He worked hard to keep his face expressionless, wondering exactly what definition of 'fine' they were working with here. "And you should be in class."

"Oh, I have a free period right now," he lied effortlessly. "And when I got here and realised you'd slipped out for a moment I knew that I should stay with Rusty. Because he shouldn't be left alone when he has a head injury, right?" He blinked innocently at her.

She glared at him, uncertainly. "I see. Well, I suppose there's no harm done. And I am very busy . . . I'll write you a pass for your next class."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, his voice low and sincere.

Her cheeks were tinged with pink as she turned to face Rusty. "Now, how are you young man?"

"I'm fine," Rusty answered. Danny rolled his eyes behind her back.

"Well, perhaps your friend will convince you to avoid any more 'skateboard accidents'" Her tone was archly knowing, and it took a great deal of effort for Danny not to start yelling. She didn't know. She didn't _know_. And morons were to be taken advantage of, not blamed.

"I'm working on avoiding them," Rusty promised, and Danny would be the only one to hear the irony in his voice.

"I'm afraid we haven't been able to reach your father yet," she continued, "And you'll need to stay here until we do."

Danny nearly laughed out loud. The idea of Rusty being sent home with his dad was . . . something less than acceptable. In fact it was completely and utterly fucking insane and he wasn't about to let it happen.

He aimed a puzzled frown at Rusty. "But your dad's out of town. You were going to stay at mine, remember?" He let his expression shift to one of anxiety – not that hard a reach in the circumstances. "Did you maybe hit your head harder than you thought?"

Rusty blinked at him, and for a second Danny was worried that maybe he really was hurt worse than they'd thought if he wasn't picking up on the story. But then Rusty blinked again. "I forgot," he said voice muzzy, turning to the nurse. "That's okay, isn't it?"

"Well," she hesitated, "I'd need to talk to both your parents, make sure that's all right with them."

"Not a problem," Danny said briskly. "If you haven't managed to get hold of them by the end of the day I'll get my mom to call you."

She nodded, apparently satisfied with the plan. That was good, because Danny was fresh out of ideas. "I'll keep trying to find your dad, Robert. See if I can find a contact number. Keep that icepack on your head. And make sure you go to your next class, Daniel."

"I will," he lied, as she left the room. "Huh."

Rusty frowned at him. "If she calls your mom - "

Danny shook his head. "She's out of the country for a couple of weeks. I was going to ask if you wanted to stay at mine anyway."

There was a pause. "For two weeks?" Rusty asked finally.

"Uh huh," Danny smiled. "Just us."

Rusty lay back on the bed. "Sounds nice."

It did. Two weeks where they could rest, lick their wounds and make plans without fear of parental reprisal. It sounded too good to believe, and Danny resolutely ignored the nagging thought that something was wrong with the whole picture.

"Still," Rusty went on. "She said she needs to talk to – "

"I'll take care of it," Danny cut in.

Rusty chewed his lip. "Are you sure – " He sounded exhausted and Danny just didn't want him to worry anymore.

" - Rus'," That got his attention. "I promise." Just this once, he asked silently, let me take care of it – of _you_ \- on my own.

There was a barely perceptible pause. "OK." He yawned and added sleepily "Mike's got art right now."

Well, at least they were both thinking along the same lines. That was always reassuring. And he was glad he wasn't going to have to try too hard to track Mike down, though he did wonder whether Rusty had everyone's timetable memorised or just the ones that he thought they might need.

He glanced at his watch; if he hurried he'd be outside the classroom before the bell rang. "You just rest, okay? I'll be back later." He grabbed the icepack from where it had been abandoned at the side of the bed. "And keep that on your face."

Replacing the icepack, Rusty rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Danny paused in the doorway, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. "I'll be back later," he repeated.

Rusty looked at him seriously. "I know."

*

He got to the art department just in time to see class get out. Great. With a sigh he waited beside the door. Naturally Mike and his friends were the last ones out of the room.

He cleared his throat and they turned to look at him. "Mike? We need a favour."

One of the boys with him – a new kid, Danny thought, or at least not anyone he recognised – sneered. "We? Kid, I only see one of you."

David elbowed the new boy in the ribs. "Shut up, that's Danny Ocean," he muttered quietly

The boy frowned. "So?"

"So that means 'we' is him and Rusty Ryan, and trust me. School's a lot easier if those guys like you." David was still talking softly, and Danny had to wonder if he thought he couldn't hear him.

Their reputation never ceased to amuse Danny. He couldn't even remember doing anything in particular for David – he wasn't one of the guys who'd signed up to their test paper service. They'd never even busted him out of detention.

Seemed that the new boy had heard some stories though, because he shut up pretty quickly. Huh. He should really keep an ear to the ground and check out what the current batch of rumours actually were. Just in case there was anything particularly libellous, or more importantly, anything particularly funny.

He kept his eyes fixed on Mike. "We need a favour," he repeated. "Please."

Mike looked slightly uncomfortable. "I have drama next," he said apologetically.

Danny nodded, thoughtfully. That did make things a little more complicated. Mike would always happily cut any other class, but he needed drama. He wanted to be an actor, and from where Danny was sitting he had a good chance of making it. The guy had talents. And that was why they needed him.

"Do this and we're even," he said, and then considered. "Do this and we'll owe you." Now that wasn't something he'd had to say often.

Mike frowned suddenly, and with a quick glance at his friends, took a step closer to Danny. "Is this to do with what we were talking about this morning?" he asked quietly.

Danny nodded.

"Then I'll do it anyway, Danny. You know that."

He smiled, relieved. "I'll get you a pass for drama," he promised.

As they walked away he heard the new kid ask "He can do that?"

"Dude," David replied in a whisper. "They can do _anything_."

Yeah. He really, _really_ needed to check what stories were being told. He had a nasty suspicion that Rusty had been adding to them again.

*

Fortunately Mike had a car, so they were able to get to Danny's house in no time at all.

"Are you sure your mom won't come in?" Mike asked, looking round the living room nervously.

"Positive," Danny replied, following the cord to find the phone, his mind already on exactly how they were going to do this. "I overheard her on the phone last night. She's gone to the Seychelles with some guy named Harry."

There was silence. Danny looked up, phone in hand, to find Mike staring at him with an odd expression. Oh. Right. He should have said that his mom had _told_ him she was going away. After six weeks he was a little too used to the silent treatment.

"Danny – " Mike began, frowning.

" - Don't," he interrupted, and forced a smile. "Let's just do this, okay?"

Mike nodded slowly and Danny handed him the phone. "How exactly does he sound?" Mike asked.

"Sort of like Rusty, except older obviously, and his voice is deeper and sort of . . . coarser." And he normally sounded a hell of a lot drunker, but that didn't seem like it would be helpful right now.

"Like this?" Mike tried, sounding completely unlike himself.

Danny considered. "Make it a little more throaty," he advised.

Mike nodded. "How about now?"

"Too much," he said quickly.

"So, more like this maybe?"

Okay. That was seriously weird. "Perfect," he grinned.

Mike nodded again and licked his lips nervously. "You got the number?"

Danny handed it over and watched him dial. "Don't use big words."

The school apparently answered fairly quickly. "Oh, hello," Mike said in Rusty's dad's voice. "This is Robert Ryan. I was told you've been trying to call me?"

There was a pause.

"I see . . . is he all right?" Danny frowned; there was far too much concern in Mike's voice to sound remotely believable to him. But then, he supposed that if the school knew how little Robert Ryan Senior cared about his son they might be inclined to do something. Or, more likely, they wouldn't. At any rate it probably wouldn't sound suspicious to them the way it did to him.

"I see," Mike repeated. "Well, I'm out of town right now. He was supposed to be staying with his friend Danny . . . Daniel Ocean? Yeah." Another pause. "Nah, it's all fixed up with his mother."

There was a longer pause, and Danny wished that he could hear the other side of the conversation.

"Yeah, okay, got that. Yeah . . . yes, I'll let you know next time. Thank you. Bye."

Mike hung up and turned to Danny. "They'd like it if Mr. Ryan told them the next time Rusty's supposed to be staying with you. Apparently it's important that they know what you're doing at all times."

Danny grinned. "I don't think that they could handle that information, do you?"

The phone rang. Danny raised his eyebrows. "My turn." He picked it up. "Hello, Thomas Ocean speaking," he said, pitching his voice lower than normal.

"Good day, could I speak to Mrs. Barbara Ocean please?" He recognised the nurse's voice.

"I'm afraid my aunt's not here right now, could I possibly help?" he said, smoothly.

"Well, this is Anne Rosenthal calling from Douglas Grey High School – "

"Danny's school?" he interrupted, putting a note of concern in his voice. "Has something happened? Is he all right?"

She paused. "I really need to speak to Mrs. Ocean."

Danny rolled his eyes; honestly, if he really was a concerned relative he'd be going frantic right now. "Check your file," he instructed. "I'm down as an alternate contact."

"Just a moment." He heard paper rustling. "Oh, great. That's fine Mr. Ocean. Please don't worry, there's no problem with Danny. I was just phoning to confirm that Danny's friend, Robert Ryan, was going to be staying with him?"

"Rusty? Yeah, he's staying at my aunt's while his dad's working out of town." He paused for a fraction of a second "Why?"

"Well, unfortunately, Robert came to school with some injuries – "

"=- Is it bad?" he asked immediately. "What happened?"

"He's fairly badly bruised. A skateboard accident, apparently." He decided, as Thomas, to ignore the scepticism in her voice. Mostly because he was pretty certain that he'd end up screaming at her. "At any rate we don't feel comfortable with him staying at school for the rest of the day, so we'd be grateful if someone could come and pick him up?"

"I'll be there as soon as possible," he promised. "Thanks for letting me know. Goodbye."

He hung up as she said "Goodbye."

"So what now?" Mike asked archly. "Do I put on a wig and pretend to be Thomas?"

Not a completely ridiculous idea; they might keep it for another occasion. "No, we go back to school, I get your pass out my locker, you go back to class, me and Rusty sneak out and then we get a phonecall and Thomas apologises for not knowing the proper procedures and taking a kid out of school without alerting the office."

"The real Thomas?" Mike asked uncertainly.

Danny blinked. "There is no real Thomas. We made him up."

"Right." Mike still looked confused. Oh well.

After Danny's dad had died he'd been asked to update his emergency contacts sheet – which he'd done by adding a fake cousin, thinking he would come in handy. And he had. They kept meaning to do the same to Rusty's file, but they just hadn't got around to it. The next time they were in the office, he promised himself. It would have made this whole deal much easier if they hadn't had to get Mike involved.

Mike was looking at him strangely again. "Danny. Can I ask you something?" he said, hesitantly.

Figuring that Mike had thought of a way to take advantage of the whole 'we owe you' deal, Danny shrugged. "Sure."

"And you won't laugh, or anything?" Mike persisted.

Danny raised an eyebrow, wondering just what sort of favour Mike was after. "Of course not."

"It's just... " Mike spread his arms helplessly. "I'm worried about you," he blurted out. "Both of you."

Well, that was unexpected. "Yeah," he answered flippantly. "Join the club. That brings it up to a grand total of three of us."

Mike pretty much ignored him. "Things have been getting worse, right? I mean the last month or so, Rusty's always beat up, you're both always exhausted and you're charging for things you normally do for free. Tommy Owen said you charged him thirty dollars to get him out of those detentions."

Danny frowned. "Too steep do you think?" he asked, seriously. "He paid it."

Mike shrugged. "Hey, if he wanted his Saturdays free he shouldn't have superglued the staff restrooms. That's not the point." He paused.

"So...?" Danny prompted.

Mike squared his shoulders. "You've got a plan, right?" Danny had never heard him sound so serious. "You're going to fix this."

He hesitated, unsure of what to say. Mike was a friend, one of the good guys – trustable – but . . .

"I don't need to know the details," Mike said, seemingly responding to his uncertainty. "Just tell me that you know what you're doing. And promise me you'll ask if you need my help."

"We asked you today," he pointed out, trying to buy some time to deal with this.

"Danny." Obviously it wasn't going to be successful.

"Yeah," he said, not looking at Mike. "We've got a plan. Kind of a long-term deal. But everything's going to get better." It was. No matter what they had to do to make it happen.

Mike looked immensely relieved, and Danny wondered how it was that people were that worried about them. "Good. It's just . . . I've known you for a long time."

"Yeah." That was true. He could remember playing over at Mike's house when he was in second grade.

"And Rusty's always – "

" - _Yeah_." he repeated, unwilling to face the end of that sentence. Rusty always looked like he'd lost a fight with a man twenty-five years older and a hundred pounds heavier.

There was an awkward silence.

"I went to Mr. Attwood a couple of years back you know," Mike said conversationally. "About Rusty."

"What did that stupid bastard say?" Danny asked with genuine curiosity.

Mike looked slightly startled at the description. Still, it was accurate. "Uh, he offered me a lollipop and told me that we could never understand another person's situation, that all families are different and we shouldn't be judgemental and that some kids are so desperate for attention that they make stuff up."

Yeah. Definitely a stupid bastard. He shrugged. "Rusty does make stuff up," he offered.

"The pair of you are complete liars," Mike agreed cheerfully. "But Rusty's really good at avoiding attention."

Danny smiled slightly but said nothing.

Mike took a deep breath, obviously having worked his way round to what he'd really wanted to say. "Seriously – why hasn't Rusty ever said anything? Why haven't you?"

Danny closed his eyes for a long moment and tried hard not to laugh. Or cry. "What in the world makes you think we haven't?" he asked at last.

*

Later, surrounded by pizza boxes and watching the late-night Creature Feature with Rusty, Danny thought about what Mike had said.

"Mike's worried about us," he began, finally.

"We should do something nice for him," Rusty said, not taking his eyes from the screen where a dozen incredibly fake-looking tentacles were pulling a scantily clad swimmer to certain doom.

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "But the thing is, he's got a point."

"We already knew tha,." Rusty said calmly.

"Your face though... " The swelling had gone down a lot, but Rusty still looked like one of the victims in one of those anti-drink driving ads. "And it was the same last week. And the week before. Wait..." Danny was suddenly distracted by the sight of a woman in a lab coat running through the woods. "Who's that?"

"The beautiful female scientist," Rusty answered immediately.

"Oh." Danny considered for a moment. "I thought she died."

"That's what you were supposed to think," Rusty explained, without looking round. "Turns out it was her identical twin sister."

"Oh," Danny said again.

They watched the movie.

"It's just like when my mom left," Rusty said, after a few minutes had gone by. "It'll get better in a couple of weeks, once he moves past the blaming me stage."

"You mean he'll go back to only hitting you if he notices you," Danny said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

Rusty paused. "Are you going to eat that last piece of pizza?"

"Go ahead." Danny nudged the box closer with his foot.

"You know how good I've got at not being noticed," Rusty leaned forwards and grabbed the piece of pizza and Danny caught another glimpse of the fading bootprint on his side. That had been from last week.

They sat in silence as Rusty finished the pizza and the thing with the tentacles ravaged Miami Beach.

"Anyway," Rusty said, licking the last of the crumbs from his fingers. "It's only for another year."

Danny leaned back and said nothing, wondering how well he could cope with another year of coming to school every day hoping that Rusty had survived the night in one piece. If Rusty was wrong – if things didn't go back to his fucked-up definition of normal – well. They would have to change the plan.

"Danny. It is only for another year. Right?" There was just the hint of a panicked edge to Rusty's voice and Danny turned round sharply. They looked at each other in silence for a beat and Rusty seemed to relax. "I thought you might have changed your mind," he explained, almost apologetically.

Danny shook his head, honestly puzzled. That was just never going to happen. It wasn't just about - they were going to save both of them. "Rus' – "

" - I know." He smiled and then winced and touched his lip. "Ow."

Danny sighed. "Just try and remember. Okay?" He reached round the side of the sofa and passed Rusty the painkillers and a fresh bottle of coke.

Rusty didn't say anything; just took the pills and turned back to the movie. Danny watched him for a couple of seconds.

"We're not just going to survive," he promised silently. "We're going to live

He turned back to the TV just in time to see the monster devour its latest victim. He blinked. "Did she just roll into that thing's mouth?"

"Uh huh," Rusty agreed, seemingly transfixed. "Hell of a way to commit suicide."

Danny shook his head. "We have got to start watching movies with an actual budget."

Everything was going to be fine.

He would make sure of it.


	4. Remember the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline:  
> 1\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 15  
> 2\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 3\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 4\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16

The football team had approached them when they'd been hanging around the back of the school, smoking. Well, actually _he'd_ been smoking, Danny had just been watching him with a blank expression that Rusty would swear he secretly practiced in front of the mirror. They hadn't had even a round-about conversation about his new-found habit yet; but somehow he suspected it was only a matter of time.

Things had been . . . odd, since he came back from care. They'd been being so careful. Normal. Sticking to playing ball and hanging around the arcade like the other kids in school did. They hadn't even been spending their Saturdays picking pockets. All in all, life had been pretty boring, and he knew that Danny was feeling as restless as he was.

At any rate they hadn't been doing anything especially important when half the football team had marched round the corner and surrounded them in a loose semi-circle. He'd been aware of Danny tensing beside him. They could be in serious trouble here; they were all in the year above Danny and the smallest of these guys was about a head taller than him and forty pounds heavier. But he couldn't think of anything they could possibly have done to piss the team off. He risked a quick sideways glance at Danny. Great. Neither of them knew what was going on.

The captain of the football team – David Bannerman, commonly known as The Hulk, cleared his throat. "My little brother said that you got his BB gun back off Hutchins."

They both nodded. The Hulk's little brother Tommy was in Rusty's class and it had been really easy to lift the confiscated toy off the janitor. Still, unless David had a seriously weird relationship with his little brother, this probably wasn't heading anywhere dangerous.

"And we heard about what you did to Norris Carrol. Doug Fletcher was there," Jake Price chimed in. Everyone had heard about that one it seemed, though Rusty was pretty certain that Doug Fletcher had been nowhere near the place. People said that bullies only responded to force, but apparently complete humiliation worked just as well.

Danny was grinning, he could tell without looking. "So you're after a favour," he said, apparently deciding to move the conversation on.

The Hulk squared his shoulders. "There was a history test last week. Tarrant says we cheated. She says she's going to stop us playing in the match against Hill Street next week unless we can pass the make-up test."

Rusty raised an eyebrow. "Can she do that?" he asked.

"Coach says yes," Jake shrugged

"We need to pass the test," The Hulk was frowning. "All of us."

There were a hundred ways he could have told Danny 'no' without the others even realising, but he chose not to. He could tell by the way Danny was leaning ever so slightly towards them that he was interested. And yeah, Rusty was too. This could be just what they needed. So he smiled a little when Danny said, casually "We can maybe do something for you. We'll look into it."

The Hulk frowned again. "That's it?"

"Friday," Danny promised. "We'll let you know."

"How did you cheat the first time anyway?" Rusty asked. It was important. They had to know how these guys had been caught so they could prevent a repeat performance.

There was an awkward silence, broken only by the sounds of the football team shuffling their feet. "We didn't" Jake said finally, staring at the ground.

Ah. Right.

"You need to help us though," The Hulk said frowning, possibly having not followed the rest of the conversation. "It's _Hill Street_." Possibly something of their indifference showed on their faces, because he frowned harder. "It's important. Team spirit and loyalty and stuff."

Rusty avoided saying anything with an effort. They couldn't have team spirit for a team they weren't part of, and their loyalties were unbreakable. Besides, they'd already said yes. He lit another cigarette and took a long drag. "It'll cost you."

Danny nodded beside him. "Five dollars each. On delivery," Obviously he hadn't cared much for the loyalty bit either.

Most of the football team nodded. Jake was staring at Rusty though. "You _smoke_?" he asked, in an awe-struck tone.

Everything they'd done and that was what was impressive. He looked down at the cigarette in his hand. "Uh huh."

"Can...can I try?"

Rusty grinned. "It's really bad for you." He could feel the full weight of Danny's blank expression directed at him.

"Please," Jake begged.

Rusty grinned wider and passed the cigarette over. Jake inhaled, burst out coughing and passed it back.

Danny stood up a little straighter and did that thing – some trick of personality, or charisma, or something – and suddenly everyone's attention was focused on him. "Friday," he repeated. "We'll get back to you."

And the football team, surprisingly capable of recognising a dismissal, hesitantly turned and drifted off.

When they were definitely out of earshot. Danny turned to face him. "What do you think?"

"Well," he shrugged, "They cheated."

"No kidding. We need to find out – "

" – Mike or Jeff," he suggested, naming two boys who were in that class and might know what had gone on.

"Or Gina." Danny suggested dreamily.

Rusty nodded, slightly unhappily. Danny got weird around Gina. "You talk to them, I'll check out Mrs. Tarrant," he suggested.

"Sure thing," By Danny's smirk he knew exactly what Rusty was thinking. "Meet you in – "

" – you're buying," Rusty said hastily. Served him right.

*

They had been coming to Mabel's diner for three years now. It was almost always quiet, no-one hassled them, and Mabel made some of the best food Rusty had ever tasted.

Thankfully Danny had always been understanding about things and waited until he had finished his second piece of pie before trying to attract his attention.

"So," Danny began. "Gina reckons that they must have gone in with the answers somehow."

Risky trick. "They wrote – "

" - same wording even." Danny confirmed.

Well, they'd need to be cleverer than that. Shouldn't be difficult. "The make-up test is on Monday." That hadn't been difficult to find out; it had been written on the board in the history classroom. The football team would have known by tomorrow. It did make things more complicated though.

"We'll need to move fast," Danny commented. "Is it written?"

He nodded. "Locked in her desk," Finding that out had just been good luck. He'd been loitering around the classroom and had heard Mrs. Tarrant and the football coach arguing. She'd been gesturing wildly and had hit the desk. Neither of them had paid him the slightest bit of attention. Not that that was unusual. Since...since they'd been told he was an attention-seeking liar the teachers had seemed to form a conspiracy not to even look at him. It came in handy.

Mabel came over with a tray and took their empty plates. "Now, can I get you boys anything else? 'Nother piece of pie, Rusty? Or I get some fresh-baked chocolate cake?"

He smiled; the other thing he really liked about Mabel's was her special offers. Buy a main course and she gave you as much dessert as you could eat – for free. "Maybe a slice of cake. Thanks Mabel. And another coke?"

"Cup of coffee here please, Mabel," Danny said. Mabel looked surprised, and as she walked away Rusty raised an eyebrow. Since when did Danny drink coffee?

Danny shrugged and looked faintly embarrassed.

Rusty laughed slightly and leaned back. Well, there was a first time for everything after all.

Mabel was back with their order in a matter of minutes and Rusty watched in amusement as Danny took a sip of his coffee, pulled a face, and started stirring in milk and sugar. "Be easiest to just get a hold of a copy of that paper," he said when he'd succeeded in creating a drinkable balance.

Rusty shook his head. "Tarrant never leaves her classroom. You know that." It was true. There were at least a half-dozen rumours circling as to why. They were all nonsense and he should know. He'd started three of them.

"She doesn't sleep there," Danny said deliberately and it was a moment before he got it.

"You want to break into the school?" he asked, incredulously.

"Why not?" Danny smiled. "Tell me you don't think it would be fun."

He grinned and shook his head. Of course it would be fun.

"Tell me you don't think we could do it," Danny persisted.

Well of course they could do it.

"Then what's the problem?" Danny finished, persuasively.

Rusty had already moved on to 'how?' "We should take a look tonight." There might be more security than they could see in the daytime.

Danny frowned slightly. "We'll need to – "

" – Take a ball or something." No-one would look twice at a couple of kids playing, even if it was later than they should be out.

"So, my place then?" Rusty pretended not to notice the reluctance in Danny's voice, just as Danny was pretending not to feel it.

*

There were two cars in the driveway. Obviously both Danny's parents were home. Damn.

They heard the yelling before they had even sneaked in the door. It was coming from the living room so without saying a word, they headed upstairs as fast as possible. Unfortunately they were never going to be able to be fast enough to avoid hearing.

_" ...staying out all night. You think I don't know? What sort of example is that for your son?"_

_"My son? Hell, princess, let's share the embarrassment. He's your son too."_

_"That's right, blame everything on me! Come on, let's hear what a bad wife and mother I am."_

_"You're a selfish bitch, you know that? And that boy is turning out just the same."_

There was a crash of glass. Someone had thrown something. Rusty winced, gently pulled Danny into the bedroom and made sure to shut the door tightly closed behind them, effectively muffling the din. He knew that Danny's parents had never laid a finger on him, but still he worried. In his experience angry words always led somewhere, and Danny didn't deserve that.

He squeezed Danny's arm gently before letting go, but he said nothing and Danny shot him a grateful look.

"Think the ball's under the bed," Danny said.

Rusty nodded and scrambled down to take a look. "You need to clean under here," he commented, trying not to sneeze.

"I'll get right on that," Danny agreed dryly. He paused. "They're getting worse."

Rusty, having finally caught sight of both the ball he was looking for, and a spider he definitely wasn't, made a noise that might have been soothing and was certainly non-committal.

"I think, maybe they're going to split up," Danny went on.

Ball in hand, Rusty wriggled backwards out from under the bed and flipped over to look up at Danny. "How do you – "

" – I don't know."

He could see where it was difficult. At least the yelling would stop. Nothing in his own experience was remotely helpful. Yeah, his parents could probably be said to have technically split up, but it wasn't the same. "Doug Fletcher's parents are divorced," he offered. "He says it's okay."

"That's just because he gets two sets of Christmas presents," Danny answered immediately.

Rusty grinned, acknowledging the point. "Catch." He threw the ball upwards and Danny managed to just catch it by his fingertips. He got to his feet, wishing he could say something like 'It'll be all right', but they didn't lie to each other. He wondered if it would make a difference if he reminded Danny that he'd be there for as long as Danny needed him. "Danny – " he began, slightly uncertainly.

" – I know." Danny actually smiled. "Believe me, I know."

He grinned and opened the door. The yelling had apparently moved into the hallway so he closed it again quickly. "Window?" he invited.

"Don't mind if I do." Danny opened the window and carefully climbed out.

There was a tree that grew right up beside Danny's house, that was really easy to climb down. It made things easier; they'd had to put a series of pitons under his window.

*

It was strange seeing the school dark. They'd killed a couple of hours in the arcade and had been playing catch in the street outside the school ever since.

There was a trick to it, like most things. They had to make enough noise that they were obviously playing rather than lurking, but not so much that anyone was going to complain or even notice them too much.

It was about half eleven now and there'd been no sign of a night watchman or anything. One less thing to worry about. He caught Danny's eyes as he threw the ball across. "Think we're all right?" he asked, in a low voice.

"Uh huh," Danny agreed as he threw the ball back.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. "Curtain twitcher at number two," he said quietly.

Danny didn't look in the last bit surprised. "And number 14."

Rusty dropped the ball and casually turned round as he picked it up. Danny was right of course; he just caught sight of the old lady in the window, watching him. He looked down the street a little way. There was a place where the street curved inwards and there were no streetlights. It was between the two risky houses. Could work. "Blind spot?" he suggested.

Danny followed his gaze. "Perfect."

They grinned at each other and Rusty tried hard not to actually start giggling. He couldn't believe that they were really planning on doing this.

"Want to get a closer look at the door?" Danny asked.

Rusty nodded and threw the ball over.

"Go out for a long one," Danny said loudly.

Keeping an eye on the school behind him, Rusty ran backwards. Just there should do it. "Okay!" he yelled back. Probably no-one was listening, but it was better to be careful. Within reason, obviously.

The ball went sailing over his head and over the wall, and he turned just in time to see it go rolling neatly up to the school door. "Now look what you've done!" It took a little more effort than he would have liked to make himself sound exasperated rather than impressed or envious. He couldn't throw a ball like that, no matter how often Danny showed him.

"Sorry," Danny said, sounding sheepish. "I thought you were going to catch it."

Rusty started to scramble up the wall. "How tall do you think I am?" he asked, and then turned sharply to Danny, who was right behind him. "Don't answer that," he added in a more normal tone of voice.

Danny laughed quietly.

They managed to scale the wall and jump down the other side with no more than scraped hands. And if they could do it here and now, they'd be able to do it further down tomorrow.

Having retrieved the ball, Danny started to throw it against the wall, while Rusty checked the locks. Most of them they'd seen a hundred times before, but the gate was shut with a length of chain and a large padlock. Nothing that looked like it would give them any trouble. And there was no sign of an alarm either.

He glanced back at Danny and nodded. Danny smiled and they started to walk back across the playground, occasionally passing the ball, just in case someone was looking.

"Do you have a flashlight?" Rusty asked, the thought occurring suddenly.

Danny shook his head. "We'll need to get a couple."

"And we need more hairgrips," he added, and watched Danny's face fall. Danny always found buying hairgrips really difficult. Rusty would never understand why it had never occurred to Danny to just shoplift them, but as long as he found Danny's embarrassment amusing, he wasn't going to suggest it.

It had been a few years ago that he'd read in a book that it was possible to pick a lock with a hairgrip or a paperclip, and he'd immediately told Danny that they were going to learn how. Danny had never asked why, though Rusty suspected he'd probably figured it out. When he'd been younger his parents had used to lock him in the flat whenever they went away. He hadn't liked it that much.

Suddenly Danny threw him the ball and took off running. "Race you!" he yelled.

Rusty blinked and started running. Fairly obviously, he was going to lose. He grinned, and in his best panicked tone hissed. "Look out! A cop!"

Danny immediately slowed and looked round wildly and Rusty sprinted past and threw himself up the wall. "I win!" he cheered.

"You little cheat!" Danny shouted after him, doubled up with laughter.

*

The next day he couldn't stop yawning, and by lunchtime, after he'd nodded off twice during art, he was ready to ditch the entire afternoon. Danny, though in better shape than him, was more than agreeable, and so they wandered off and spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around at Danny's, talking about nothing.

He'd slept over at Danny's last night, and would be doing the same tonight. The tree was as easy to climb up as down, whereas he just wasn't big enough or strong enough to pull himself up from the fire escape into his bedroom window. So he'd have had to sneak in the front door and, well, he only did that when there was no other option. He'd been caught out a few times too often.

He was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the bed, shuffling a deck of cards semi-idly. Danny's uncle Ed had taught them how to play poker a couple of months back (Apparently he'd thought it was funny. Danny's mother had been less amused) and something about it had intrigued him.

Danny was sitting at his desk, swinging on a chair, flipping a flashlight on and off endlessly.

"You're going to waste the batteries," Rusty told him absently and dealt out a couple of hands.

"They last longer than that," Danny objected.

Rusty frowned at the Three of Diamonds. Not what he'd been looking for. "Fine, but I'm taking spares."

"You a boy scout now?" Danny asked, swinging dangerously further back in his chair.

Reshuffling the deck and starting over, Rusty looked up. "I'm not the one with the uniform in my closet," he pointed out sweetly.

Danny coloured slightly. "Mom made me," he said quickly, before apparently realising that that really didn't sound any better. "Anyway, you know how long that lasted."

Two weeks, bar the shouting. And the uniform had come in handy a couple of times since. "Is it wrong to impersonate a scout?" he pondered aloud.

"Probably," Danny sighed. "Nearly everything even halfway fun seems to be."

A sudden knocking at the door made them both jump, and a second later Danny's mother walked in. "Danny ..." she began, then she noticed him. "Oh," she said flatly. "Good afternoon, Robert."

He wished she wouldn't call him that. It made him uncomfortable. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Ocean," he said politely and with a smile that he didn't bother trying to make ingratiating. She was never going to like him.

Ignoring him, she turned back to Danny. "I just came in to tell you that I'm going to be busy in the study tonight and don't wish to be disturbed. Your father is...working late, again, so if you could find your own dinner? There's plenty in the fridge. And if Robert wants to stay for dinner, that's fine too."

She must be in a good mood. That had been almost gracious.

"Rusty's staying over tonight," Danny told her straight-forwardly.

Her expression didn't change. "As long as you don't make too much noise and stay out of my way."

"We will," Danny promised, and Rusty nodded.

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow." She walked out and Danny visibly relaxed. Rusty knew how he felt.

He leaned his head back against the comforter and closed his eyes.

"We should get some sleep," Danny commented.

"Food first," Rusty insisted. Then he opened his eyes and absent-mindedly dealt himself a Royal Flush. Well. That was the first time that had worked.

He grinned and looked up. Danny was staring at him incredulously. "Do that again," he demanded.

His grin widened. "Food first," he repeated.

Danny threw a cushion at him and the cards scattered all over the floor.

*

"I still think we should be wearing masks." Danny muttered.

Rusty, working on the padlock, tongue between his teeth, said nothing. If Danny wanted to dress up like the Lone Ranger that was his own look-out.

"It's not the Zorro thing," Danny insisted. "Just to hide who we are."

The lock finally turned and Rusty swung the gate open and moved on to the door.

Danny followed him in and closed the gate over behind them. "Yeah, okay, so if they see us we're already in trouble."

Exactly. He bent down and started fiddling with the lock. This one should be easier.

"But maybe something like the stocking-over-the-head look."

"I think that's just for bank robberies," Rusty pointed out, just as the lock clicked open.

"Okay. We'll do that next," Danny said, apparently seriously.

Rusty grinned and tried the door - which completely failed to open. His heart in his throat, he turned to Danny who smiled and pointed upwards.

Ah. Another lock. Just above his line of sight.

With as much dignity as he could muster he stepped aside and passed the pack of hairgrips over to Danny who was doing a fairly good job of not laughing.

It only took a couple of moments for Danny to get the last lock, and they stepped inside the dark building. Okay. The school by torchlight was a little spooky. There were definitely more shadows than he was expecting, and he wasn't completely convinced that theirs were the only ones moving. He exchanged a long look with Danny.

"Is it just me," Danny began hesitantly, "or does this remind you –"

" – that was just a movie," he said, not quite as certainly as he would have liked.

They walked down the corridor a little closer together than they normally would have, and he wasn't the only one peering into dark corners.

He noticed that Danny was humming under his breath as they turned into the history corridor. It took him a moment to place the tune. Mission Impossible. He glanced sideways. Danny was watching him. He knew exactly what he was doing. Rusty smiled slightly and joined in on the loud bit.

Mrs. Tarrant's room wasn't locked. Even better it turned out that she really didn't sleep in there.

"Spare key?" Danny asked, finally stopping singing.

"On top of the blackboard," Rusty told him.

Danny frowned. "We're going to need to stand on the desk." he observed.

"You're taller," Rusty said immediately.

Danny just looked at him.

"I'll hold it steady," he offered.

Danny sighed but helped him move the desk.

"Take your shoes off first," he advised. Footprints on the wood could make this a little difficult to explain.

That was definitely a glare, but Danny did as he suggested. The sight of Danny wearing socks and standing on the desk did a lot to dispel the whole Mission Impossible feel.

"Catch," Danny said as he threw the key down.

"Thanks. Put your shoes back on."

Danny made a rude gesture at him as he clambered down.

Rusty grinned at him. "Shall we?" he gestured at the desk.

"Go for it," Danny said, leaning over his shoulder.

Reverently he unlocked the desk. The test paper was sitting right on the top. He looked over at Danny. They were in business.

"Okay, then." Time to get copying.

It took about half an hour for them to both write out the paper and check each other's work. To be honest, it was pretty boring.

Rusty stretched. "Feels like being in school," he complained.

Danny looked sideways at him. "We _are_ in school."

"Oh yeah." He'd actually kind of forgotten that.

"We done?" Danny asked.

He nodded.

"Then it's your turn to climb on the furniture," Danny said, smiling cheerfully.

They spent the next half hour or so making sure there was no sign anyone had been anywhere near the place – everything was back where it should be, and they locked all the doors and the gate with the Janitor's set of master keys. Of course, that left them on the outside of the school with a set of keys they had absolutely no business having, but that was only a small problem. They'd go in early tomorrow and leave them somewhere they'd be easily found. The only consequence should be that Hutchins would get a bit of a reputation for being absent-minded. A careless janitor was far more believable than the truth anyway.

As soon as they dropped down from the wall, Rusty reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. Once again he could feel Danny looking at him. He closed his eyes as he took the first drag, and waited.

"Why?" Danny asked, calmly.

He opened his eyes and considered it for a moment. "It makes me feel better," he answered, honestly.

Danny nodded thoughtfully. "Can I have one?"

"No!" he snapped automatically. He remembered how he'd given one to Jake, and felt like a hypocrite. "They're bad for you," he muttered.

Danny watched him until he had to look away.

*

The football team had gone away more than happy with their copies of the test paper. And so they should be. It had taken them ages to write out six copies.

Danny counted out the money. "Fifteen dollars for you, and fifteen for me." He smiled. "There's a fair in town this weekend."

Well then, they'd have fun spending it. "Easy come, easy go." Though they'd undoubtedly be able to pick up more money at the fair. People didn't tend to be too careful with their wallets at that kind of thing.

He lit a cigarette and Danny calmly reached over and took one out of the packet.

"My choice." he said, in response to Rusty's look. He lit it with an ease that told Rusty exactly how closely he'd been being watched. Then he coughed.

"It gets easier," Rusty told him.

Danny leaned back against the wall. "When?"

He shrugged.

Just then, Jeff Thomson came round the corner, with a nervous expression on his face. "I hear you can get test papers...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, if you liked it, why not leave kudos or a comment? :)


	5. Four Day Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline:  
> 1\. Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 2\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 3\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 4\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 5\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16

Rusty came back from the care home with a nicotine habit, an unshakeable reputation as a liar and a _need_ to be able to make people like him and then forget about him the moment he left their sight.

After talking to his class teacher, the principal, the school councillor Mr. Atwood, two doctors, five social workers and three police officers – Danny, silent at his shoulder all the way – they'd taken him to a group home on the edge of town. It was a tall, grey building, with a couple of dozen brightly painted rooms and a large, tree-filled garden.

On the first night Miss Stevens smiled at him when he arrived, made him a sandwich and gave him several sets of nearly-new clothes that were almost in his size. While he ate she took a look at the cuts on the back of his head, and reapplied the antiseptic that the doctor had given him. Then she took him upstairs to a large room where three other boys – all a little older than him – were sleeping. Or, from when the door opened, pretending to sleep.

One of them sat up as soon as Miss Stevens had wished him goodnight in a whisper and closed the door behind her. "Hey, kid," he hissed. "What are you in for?"

He climbed into bed and tried to think of an answer.

"Jesus, Greg," the oldest of the boys cut in. "Don't ask him that. He just got here."

"Just wanted to know," Greg muttered apologetically. "Sorry."

The oldest boy turned to face him. "What's your name, kid? I'm Jerry, that's Randy over there, and the idiot in the corner is Greg."

"Rusty," he said, smiling. He leaned forwards and looked at each of them in turn. "So, what's it like here?"

The other boys exchanged glances. "It's okay, I guess." Greg said finally. "Three meals a day, and Stevens is a real soft touch."

That, he'd already figured. "What is there to do for fun?"

He lay back and listened to them, as they launched into a rambling explanation of ballgames, movie nights, and daytrips to the beach, or the arcade. Eventually he fell asleep.

*

The first day he spent going over the house and grounds, making certain he knew every inch. He made sure he went exploring with some of the others; apart from the local knowledge, he needed to appear to fit in. In between checking out the doors and windows, the unused rooms and the wall around the garden (Too high to get over without injury, he'd only risk it if he absolutely had to.) he listened to the other kids and watched them. Greg liked anyone who laughed at his jokes, Marie could tolerate most things as long as you didn't look at her too hard, Jerry mostly wanted to talk about basketball, and Randy would probably follow you into hell if you showed a bit of interest in his opinions.

By the time they were choosing up teams for soccer that afternoon, Rusty was first to be picked.

*

On the second night he found it more difficult to sleep, so after the other boys' breathing evened out he decided to go for a walk.

The door was locked.

Suddenly he really needed to get out of that room.

Kneeling down, he was able to see that the key was in the lock on the other side, so he fetched a pencil and a piece of paper, carefully pushed the paper under the door, knocked the key down with the pencil and drew the paper – with the key on it – back through to his side.

He unlocked the door and sneaked out into the hallway where it was a little easier to breathe. With no real idea where he was going, he headed downstairs.

Just as his hand was on the front door, one of the care-workers – Bruno – stepped up behind him and he tensed, fighting the urge to run

"And where are we going?" he asked, genially.

Rusty turned round slowly and shrugged, not even sure if he was unable to speak or just unwilling.

Didn't seem to matter. "Well, you should be in bed," Bruno said briskly. "Come on, I'll take you back upstairs." He reached out a hand and Rusty automatically dodged sideways and put himself out of reach. Just the sort of stupid, instinctive reaction that Danny would cover for him.

Bruno took a step backwards and put his hands up. "Come on," he repeated, sadly. "I'll take you back to bed."

Rusty nodded and obediently followed him back upstairs. It would be useless to do anything else.

At the door, Bruno paused. "This should have been locked," he muttered and looked around. "And there's no sign of the key. Someone's in trouble."

The key in Rusty's pocket was heavy, but he said nothing.

Bruno pulled a key out of the door opposite. "Old house," he explained, catching sight of Rusty's puzzled expression. "Most of the locks are the same. Now come on, off to bed with you."

The room felt smaller to him than it had before, but without any real choice, he did as he was told.

*

On the second day, he planned to go and meet Danny in town. It was, after all, the last weekend before the end of spring break, and the streets would be filled with careless shoppers. And more than that, he had to know what Danny thought about everything.

It never occurred to him that he wouldn't be allowed to go, but when he asked the other kids they looked at him like he was crazy, and when he went to see Miss Stevens she sighed, and pushed her glasses further up her nose.

"I can't let you go wandering around the city on your own, Rusty. I know you've not been used to all this, but you're only ten years old. It isn't safe. You need to be looked after."

"I'm nearly eleven," he said, flatly.

She sighed again, then seemed to brighten up. "There is a bit of good news. I've been on the telephone all morning, and from Monday you'll be starting your new school."

"New school?" He blinked.

She nodded. "Yes, of course. You'll be going to school with the other children. Won't that be nice?"

He looked down for a long moment, and when he looked back up, he appeared to be on the brink of tears. "Can't...can't I just carry on going to my old school?"

"Oh, Rusty." She smiled softly. "You'll be fine. You'll make lots of new friends. Just look at how well you've settled in here."

He nodded as though she'd helped and left her office.

The rest of the day he spent eying the walls and trying to figure out if a broken arm or leg would really be _that_ bad, and when Joe offered him a cigarette and said it would help he accepted without hesitation.

*

The third night he spent staring out of the window and working his way through the pack of cigarettes he'd lifted off Bruno.

*

On the third day it was raining, so they were all kept inside. He played snap with Greg, Jerry and Randy for a while, but he had to walk away when the urge to cheat got too strong.

So he was on his own, curled up in an armchair, reading his way through a pile of old comics, when Miss Stevens came into the room, followed by a man and a woman he'd never seen before.

"Oh, Rusty," Miss Stevens said, distractedly. "Have you seen Greg by any chance?"

He shook his head. "Not for a while," he volunteered.

"Oh, dear," She hesitated. Would you mind entertaining Mr. and Mrs. Anchorage while I go and find him? That's a good boy." She left before he had a chance to answer, and he found himself alone in a room with two complete strangers standing between him and the only exit.

They looked at him and he looked back at them. He had absolutely no idea who they were.

"So, Rusty, is it?" The man, Mr Anchorage, smiled warmly at him. Rusty resisted the urge to look round to see if he'd maybe missed any windows. He hadn't. "We haven't seen you here before. Are you new?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I arrived on Thursday, sir."

They looked slightly taken aback at his 'sir', so he deliberately changed his stance subtly, to appear more relaxed.

"How are you finding it?" Mr Anchorage continued, after a pause. "Are you settling in fine?"

"Uh huh," He watched keenly and was relieved when he saw how his informality relaxed them a little. "Everyone's very nice."

They smiled at him, and he smiled back. Glancing over them quickly, he noticed that Mr. Anchorage was wearing a Little League lapel pin. "And Joe said that he'd take me along to baseball practice, when it starts," he added. "I can't wait."

"You like baseball?" Mr. Anchorage asked immediately. "Who do you support?"

He hesitated for a split second, but there was a flash of a navy, red and white sock at the man's ankle, so he took a chance and said "The Red Sox."

Mr. Anchorage smiled broadly and started talking quickly about the upcoming season. Rusty was able to bluff his way through with no real difficulty.

When her husband finally paused for breath, Mrs Anchorage – who had been smiling indulgently throughout – asked "So, what else do you like doing, Rusty?"

He smiled cheerfully at her. She seemed to like that. He'd already noticed the smudge of blue paint on her wrist earlier. She could just be redecorating or something, but it looked more like oil paint to him. "Well," he said shyly, "I quite like drawing, but I'm not real good at it."

"I'm sure that's not true," she said, warmly. "You like art, then?"

"Uh huh." He nodded. "It's my best subject at school." He was lying about that, as it happened, but it wasn't that important.

They both smiled at him again, and started talking to him about school. He managed to keep them happy, and even avoided flinching when Mr. Anchorage reached out and ruffled his hair.

All in all he felt he'd coped pretty well, so when Miss Stevens finally returned, he couldn't understand why Greg was glaring at him.

The Anchorages said hello to Greg and then took Miss Stephens aside for a long few moments. They kept glancing over at him, and he kept hearing the word 'unavailable'. Miss Stevens looked apologetic. The Anchorages looked sad. Greg looked really angry.

Eventually, Miss Stevens ushered him out of the room and told him to go play. He went to one of the empty rooms on the second floor and smoked the last of his cigarettes. After twenty minutes he saw the Anchorages drive away.

It was early evening before Greg caught up with him and knocked him to the floor. "They were my ticket out of here!" he yelled.

"I'm sorry," Rusty said, as meekly as he knew how. He didn't try and fight back. Greg was a lot bigger than him, and he didn't want to risk being seen as a threat.

"You know how often people come by looking for older kids?" Greg snarled. "I was gonna be adopted."

Rusty looked straight at him. "Maybe they'll be back."

"Yeah. Maybe. But they didn't say they would," Greg swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. "I hate you," he yelled, and ran out of the room

Rusty looked over at Jerry, who'd been standing there silently throughout the whole thing, and willed him to go after his friend. After a moments hesitation he did, and, with an apologetic glance, Randy followed.

*

On the fourth night once again, he couldn't sleep. He had no more cigarettes, the room was smaller than ever, and none of the others were talking to him. That wouldn't last long though. Greg had nodded and almost smiled when he'd handed over the comics he'd smuggled out of the reading room, the half block of chocolate he'd stolen from the kitchen and the Bumper Book of Dirty Jokes he'd won off Joe. When Greg forgave him, he knew that the others would too.

In the meantime he lay awake, his arm over his face, and considered. He had no doubt that he'd be able to get adopted or fostered, if he wanted. Once everything was settled there would be other families that he'd be able to con into believing that he was exactly what they wanted. It would be easy. And it would be months, probably, before they realised that he'd lied to them. Before they saw what he really was and looked away in disappointment. And by that time it would be too late. He bit his lip hard and tasted blood. It would be easy...

*

On the fourth day he went to Miss Stevens and told her he'd been lying. It took three police officers, five social workers, two psychologists, twelve hours and a lot of fast talking, but in the end he was driven back to Dad's with nothing more than the clothes he was wearing and a disgusted look and a promise of monthly home visits from a social worker he would never see again.

The worst part was going back to school the next day. Not because of the whispers and sideways glances from the other kids, who didn't know what had happened, but clearly knew something had. Not even because of the averted gazes and contemptuous expressions that all the teachers were wearing, or the way they all talked about him when they thought he couldn't hear of understand. " _Highly disturbed_." " _Hurting himself_." and what seemed to be the favourite, " _Attention-seeking behaviour_." It was awful. And it wasn't the worst.

The worst was the first time he came face to face with Danny. Because Danny stood there, fists tightly clenched at his sides, and with an expression on his face that Rusty would never understand, asked " _Why_?"

And Rusty just shook his head and looked away.

And Danny didn't ask again.

But the first time - after - that he came to school with bruises, and blood staining the collar of the nice, blue, almost-new shirt that Miss Stevens had given him, Danny ran away with him for the day, and they hid in the darkness of the boiler room, and they both pretended that Danny's arms weren't around him, and they both pretended he wasn't crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, if you liked it _please_ let me know. :)


	6. This is our decision (To live fast and die young)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline:  
> 1\. Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 2\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 3\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 4\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 5\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 6\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17
> 
> And I stole the title for this one from MGMT. Just btw.

Danny was almost certain that it must be possible for life to get better – he didn't really believe in perfection after all – but driving along the freeway in a convertible on a gloriously sunny day, his best friend dripping ice cream on the leather seats, the radio blaring out Van Halen, a briefcase with five thousand dollars in the back seat and a future stretching out in front of them; well, it was a little difficult to see just how.

It had started three weeks ago when he'd got the letter from Columbia University, offering him an interview with the Dean of Admissions to discuss his application and the whole financial aid issue. Okay, so it was just the first step, but still he wasn't able to keep the grin off his face as he brushed past his mom – who didn't look up from her paper – and headed out to Rusty's.

He'd knocked on the door slightly more enthusiastically than normal and so he'd been something more than disconcerted when it was pulled open by Rusty's father who stood swaying and looking down at him.

Danny smiled politely. "Is Rusty home?" Sometimes it was the people who you hated more than anything else in the world that you had to look respectful at. He'd learned that lesson early.

Rusty's father continued to look blankly at him.

"Your son?" he tried.

Still no reaction, but Rusty appeared behind him, trailing his jacket on the ground, and ducked past his father and smiled at Danny. "Let's go."

The door was swung shut behind them.

"When did he get home?" Danny asked. He'd been gone for nearly a week this time, working or drinking, or both.

"Last night. I stayed in my room and he passed out on the sofa."

"Good arrangement."

Rusty nodded. "I thought so. What's up, anyway?"

Grinning, Danny passed the letter over. "How do you fancy living in New York?"

Rusty scanned the letter and grinned back. "It's not the same as – " he said, warningly.

" – I know. But don't you – "

" – completely." Rusty smiled at him, pride shining in his eyes with no attempt to hide it.

"Breakfast?" Danny suggested.

"Pancakes?" Rusty countered, hopefully.

"Sure." he agreed.

"My treat." they said in unison, and laughed.

"Flip a coin for it."

"Yours or mine?"

*

Pancakes meant Mabel's, and when Danny showed her the letter, he was completely thrown when she immediately squealed and enveloped him in a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you."

He was very glad he wasn't prone to blushing. "It's not actually an acceptance," he pointed out.

"Still," she stepped back and looked at him fondly. "Breakfast is on the house."

Well, at least that was that settled.

They waited until she had bustled off, before resuming talking.

"How do you want to get there?" he asked quietly

"Bus is the most obvious," Rusty pulled a face.

Yeah, Danny felt the same way. "Car?" he suggested instead.

Rusty looked thoughtful. "It'd probably be cheaper as well. If we picked up another one for the trip home we might not even have to buy gas."

That was a practical way of looking at it. Danny just wanted plenty of leg room. "Car park on 12th?" he asked. They were going through a list of good places in the city. The last thing they wanted was to draw attention and have anywhere beef up their security.

Rusty nodded. "Haven't been there since – "

" – since you wanted to go to the drive-thru," Danny said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

"The fries taste different," Rusty defended himself.

"They don't!"

Rusty grinned and leaned back in his chair. Danny shook his head, Mabel brought the pancakes and he sat through another couple of minutes of fond fussing.

"We can check out rent prices while we're there," Rusty said, between mouthfuls.

Danny nodded. Anything that got a few less unknown quantities on the monthly budget Rusty was putting together would be good. They couldn't know what the bottom line of what they were going to need to pull together was until the thing started looking a little less like an algebra problem. "And investigate the high schools round where we'll be staying," he added.

Rusty shook his head in amusement.

"What?" Danny raised an eyebrow.

"Just can't believe I'm running away from home and I've still got to go to school."

"Get used to it," Danny said, perhaps a little shorter than he should have, but there were still some things that he was maybe still a little sensitive about. He hadn't forgotten what Rusty had said, after they'd been arrested, about his future.

Rusty dropped the subject immediately. "We should go see Leo. Get a name."

Now there was an idea.

*

The car they'd been driving had been chosen for its full tank of gas and because Rusty had felt a peculiar fondness for the yellow fuzzy dice dangling from the rear view mirror. Next time Danny was going to ignore him and find something a little more fun to drive. Whatever they picked up in New York, he was going to try and leave it in the same space they'd got this one from. The symmetry amused him.

Danny had learned to drive months back. The lessons and the test had been paid for by his mom; he'd passed the week before she disowned him. She'd actually said she was proud of him. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he'd heard that from her.

Still, he didn't have a lot of experience with driving long distances, and yeah, after barely two hours he needed a break. Just as he was about to admit it, Rusty said casually. "Rest stop next exit."

He shut his mouth and made the turning. "This would be easier if you could drive," he commented as he parked.

"Think they like it if you have a license before they let you do that," Rusty pointed out.

"We could probably get you one," They had all sorts of other fake ID after all, and it wasn't as if Rusty looked that obviously fourteen.

Rusty just looked at him.

"I'm serious," Danny said, getting out of the car. "Come on, switch places. I'll teach you."

Rusty practically bounced out of the car.

Of course, Rusty picked up driving at the same pace he absorbed everything else new. By the time he'd spent an hour or so driving round the near-deserted parking lot – with a ten minute break for donuts – Danny would probably have been comfortable letting him loose on the freeway. They weren't that stupid though. Still hopefully – hopefully – they'd be doing this a lot over the coming year. Few more lessons and the proper fake documentation and it would get a lot easier.

*

Three days of surveillance, room service and wandering the city later, they stood in a large hall with a couple dozen other prospective Columbia students and their parents. Danny's interview had been that morning and it had gone well. He knew what he had to do now. And what's more he knew he could do it. Life was looking pretty good, he thought, glancing over at Rusty who had apparently abandoned the whole idea of listening to the advertising spiel in favour of chatting to a brunette wearing a bright red t-shirt proclaiming her to be a student volunteer.

"So what's it like here?" Rusty was saying with an engaging smile.

"It's brilliant. You'll love it," she smiled back. "You're a little young to be a student though, aren't you?"

"Sixteen," Rusty lied, to Danny's amusement. "I skipped a couple years."

She raised an eyebrow. "You must be pretty smart."

Rusty shrugged modestly. "I do okay."

She laughed, and leaned in closer. "What classes are you thinking of taking?"

"Not sure. Languages, maybe. Or math. And I'm interested in architecture."

"Really? Your parents must be so proud. I bet they're not too happy about you leaving home so young though."

Rusty's smiled slipped a little and Danny watched curiously, fully aware that this had nothing to do with any of the real reasons that Rusty might be a little awkward with questions about his parents. On the whole this was much more interesting than the presentation. "They were a little upset about it at first but after the doctors said..." he stopped and looked away, blinking for a couple of seconds. "You've just got to live one day at a time, you know?" he finished bravely.

Oh, he was so going to hell.

Shaking his head he looked back at the Dean for a few minutes, and when the speech finished and he looked round, Rusty and the girl had vanished. He grinned to himself, and spent the next twenty minutes circulating among professors, getting himself noticed.

Eventually, as the others departed he started to search. Didn't take long; almost immediately he came across an alcove and Rusty and the girl making out like it was going out of style. He hadn't made a noise, but Rusty – without stopping in any way - still held up three fingers to him. Then he appeared to reconsider and added another two. Danny shook his head and left them to it.

It would maybe be easier if Rusty were to go after any of the girls his own age who followed him around. Though actually, that would feel a little weird. Sort of...icky. Probably because Rusty didn't act his age. Still, that girl had to be at least nineteen. Danny would hesitate to try and chat her up. Rusty really did have no shame.

About seven minutes later Rusty sauntered round the corner. The brunette gave him an embarrassed little wave and mouthed the words 'Call me' and vanished, presumably to try and catch up with the tour.

"You going to?" Danny asked, as they headed towards the front entrance.

Rusty shrugged. "She meant when I start school here next fall. Could be a little difficult to explain."

Danny looked at him. "You've got lipstick on your face. Just – "

" – there?" Rusty wiped at his face.

"Little higher. Yeah, that's it."

"Thanks."

*

They went to a bar just off campus that night. After all, if they were going to be here for the next few years they might as well get a good idea of what life was going to be like.

Rusty had two beers before switching to soft drinks and was now introducing a group of drunk frat boys to the perils of playing Find the Lady with a plausible stranger. Danny had raised an eyebrow, but Rusty had assured him with a glance that everything was under control. Apparently he was a hit. Knowing him he'd be inducted into the fraternity by morning and running it by next week.

Danny had found an even better way to spend his time. Her name was Samantha and she was studying geology – which he immediately developed a life long interest in. Glass of whisky in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and she'd thought he was older than her and he hadn't bothered to correct her.

They sat at the bar, and they talked about rocks and books, and their favourite teachers in high school, and parental horror stories. (Some of the ones he told her were even true.)

Half an hour before closing time, Rusty, the invisible man, passed behind him, and he felt the hotel key being lifted out of his pocket. The words 'Have a good time' lingered on the air, and when he smiled it wasn't meant for Samantha.

He would.

*

It was a little after three when Rusty let him into the room. The floor was covered with the plans they'd drawn of the jewellers, little trays of costume jewellery and what looked like the remains of every single dessert the hotel offered. Obviously Rusty had been putting his time to good use.

He flopped down onto the bed. "We miss anything?" he asked.

"Nah. It's all good." Rusty started piling the papers together and looked over at him. "Speaking of – "

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," Danny said immediately.

Rusty grinned. "If you didn't get any further than kissing then I'm extremely disappointed in you."

Danny laughed. "It was good, okay?"

Having finished his tidying, Rusty climbed into his own bed. He'd already changed into a t-shirt and sweat pants, and Danny knew he really should do the same, but he was comfortable.

"Did you mean what you said today?" he asked, suddenly. He'd been thinking about it on and off all day. It hadn't felt like a lie, and he'd thought – when it was Rusty – that he could always tell.

Rusty turned his head to look at him.

"When you said you were interested in studying languages and architecture," Danny clarified. He was almost certain that Rusty had known exactly what he was talking about, but sometimes it was good to be precise. Less room for anyone to wiggle out that way.

A non-committal shrug was the only answer.

"Rusty," he said, quietly.

"Maybe," Rusty admitted.

He rolled over so that Rusty wouldn't see the broad smile that he couldn't keep off his face. Even after they'd made the plan, this was the first time that he'd had any real indication that Rusty was listening to him, and that somewhere, other plans were being made.

"You know, if we're going to be coming through here a lot, it's going to get expensive in hotel bills," Rusty remarked after a few moments.

"Especially if you keep ordering room service like that," Danny agreed.

"Oh, don't worry, we're not paying for any of that," Rusty reassured him. "I won it in a poker game."

That was a little... but Danny decided to let it go. "Mike's moving up in a few months," he said instead. "His cousin has an apartment and a roommate moving out in November." He'd forgotten to mention earlier. "If we tell him – "

" – the truth?"

Danny shrugged. "Within reason. Anyway, we could stay with him."

There was no answer. He glanced over. Rusty was asleep. He smiled to himself; probably a good idea.

*

He waited until Rusty had been in the jewellers for nearly fifteen minutes before he followed. It was obvious that he'd immediately drawn everyone's attention as he stood there in his torn jeans and dirty shirt, looking round the place. His gaze didn't linger on Rusty, clad in a blazer with an ostentatious crest for some high class private school, and with his hair neat and dark with gel.

After a couple of seconds conversation resumed, and he heard Rusty's voice – a perfect, upper-class local accent firmly in place – complaining to the clerk standing attentively next to him. "No, no, Mama cannot stand pearls. Could I perhaps see that tray after all? Please?" There were already three trays of rings laid out on the corner in front of him. Perfect.

"Can I help you...sir?" Another clerk materialised in front of him, eying him suspiciously.

"I'm lookin' for somethin' like an engagement ring?" he said.

The clerk's expression looked mildly pained. "Certainly, sir. This way."

As they'd expected, he was led to the opposite end of the shop from Rusty. Where they kept the cheaper stuff. Pretty much at random, he pointed to one of the trays. "Lessee."

With another pained expression the clerk pulled the tray out. Danny made a show of studying each ring in turn. He waited until the clerk's attention was half-drawn to another, more profitable-looking customer entering the shop before he dropped his house key on the floor and swept the tray to the ground as he made to pick it up. The clerk's attention – everyone's attention – was immediately back on him, and as he straightened back up, apologising and placing the key back in his pocket, the clerk screamed "Thief!"

"Wha', what?" he stammered.

Now everyone was really staring, and three other clerks drifted over at speed.

"I saw you put your hand in your pocket. What have you stolen!"

"Nothin'" he yelled. "I'm not a thief."

The manager shimmered up. "Young man, turn out your pockets," he said gravely.

Danny blinked, as though fighting back tears. "I haven't done nothing," he protested.

One of the clerks bent over and started picking up the fallen jewellery.

"Now," the manager said, in a tone that brooked no contradictions.

Slowly, and with an air of great reluctance Danny complied. A wallet with ID proclaiming him to be Brian Harris, a bus ticket, a stub for the cinema, cigarettes and a lighter and the house key made a little pile on the counter. Of course, there was no jewellery.

"But I saw him," The first clerk yelled. He darted forwards and started patting Danny down.

"Don't touch me!" Danny yelled.

"Sidney!" the clerk who'd been tidying up called. "Sid, there's nothing missing."

The clerk stepped backwards and stared in disbelief. "What?"

"It's all here. See for yourself."

"I just came in here, cos I wanted to know how much I had to save up to buy a ring for Elise." Danny let his voice break, just a little.

Sidney was blushing, and the manager was no longer staring angrily at Danny. "I'm terribly sorry for this mix-up, sir," the manager offered smoothly. "I hope that this experience won't stop you from patronising our establishment." Which, Danny figured translated as please, please don't sue.

He shook his head angrily. "I just want to go home," he said, and brushed the back of his hand across his eyes, before heading for the door.

Waiting for Rusty to come round the corner took an anxious two-cigarette filled ten minutes, but he finally appeared, having ditched the blazer somewhere along the way. Well, he'd been complaining about it itching all day.

He glanced over and raised his eyebrows. Rusty nodded minutely.

He grinned. "Let's go find Leo's guy."

*

Leo, the fence that Bobby Caldwell had introduced them to, had given them the name of another fence – Jacques Callaghan - based in New York that he trusted. They'd figured that they wanted to introduce themselves as soon as possible, and to go with something. They wanted to seem like serious players, after all.

So they sat in the back room of Jacque's Irish theme bar, and watched as he examined the rings and bracelets that Rusty had palmed and replaced with fakes while Danny provided a distraction.

Finally Jacques unscrewed the jewellers eyepiece and looked them over carefully. "These are good quality."

They nodded. It had been a very up-market jewellers.

"And you come highly recommended. People I trust say I can trust you." There was a questioning note in his voice.

Danny smiled, as relaxed as he could. "We do our best."

"And that seems to be very good indeed. These I can deal with no problems. So let's say . . . five thousand."

Okay. Danny did his best not to actually pass out. He also managed not to turn his head and stare at Rusty, but he could feel the startled incredulity. Here was hoping they weren't being obvious to anyone else. "That seems fair," he said, his voice steady. It was maybe five times what they'd been expecting.

Jacques clicked his fingers and his man – bodyguard? Secretary? Barman? Danny wasn't sure – leapt to attention and headed to the safe in the corner. Both Danny and Rusty made a point of turning their heads, and Jacques grunted his approval.

"Got something to carry the cash in?" Jacques asked abruptly.

Ah. "No, I'm afraid not," Rusty said, with a slight hint of apology in his voice.

Jacques looked slightly amused and pulled a battered suitcase out from under the desk. "Here."

The man passed Danny the bundles of notes, and he immediately gave them to Rusty who started counting them and putting them in the case.

"Well," Jacques said, after Rusty had nodded to Danny. "Looks like we're through here for today. I'd offer the pair of you a drink, but Bobby made it absolutely clear that there'd be trouble if he heard about either of you drinking in my place."

Okay. That did catch him by surprise. "Some other time perhaps," he suggested.

Jacques nodded. "I look forward to seeing you again."

Once they were outside they stood and stared at each other for a few long moments.

"Well – " Danny said eventually. That had gone better than they'd expected.

" – yeah," Rusty agreed.

They started walking towards the parking lot they'd picked out as a good place to get a ride home from. There'd been a convertible there this morning that Danny had quite liked the look of.

"How do you think he knew?" Rusty asked suddenly.

"Bobby?" Danny guessed. "Maybe Leo checked with him who to recommend."

"Or maybe he really is checking up on whether we've been drinking."

Well, they never drank at the bar they met Leo in anyway. And anything else that Bobby didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

*

The drive home was better than the drive there, even though he knew what they were going back to. The addition of blazing sunshine and five thousand dollars would do that. Though the ice-cream that Rusty had taken out of his bag had him a little worried.

"I like it all melted," Rusty said, in response to the unasked question.

Fair enough.

Five thousand dollars though. For doing what could, at one hell of a stretch, be called four days work.

"So, how's our budget looking now?" he asked, with a smile.

Rusty grinned back. "We're going to be good."

They were going to be far, far better than good. They were going to be fantastic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, if you've got the time please leave kudos or a comment. :)


	7. Life Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline:  
> 1\. Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 2\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 3\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 4\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 5\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 6\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 7\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

Danny figured that there were plenty of advantages to this whole sports day thing, as long as no-one actually expected him to participate. But an afternoon out of class was always good, and if watching Principal Miller wrestling with the microphone stand wasn't entertaining enough that was more than made up for by the feeling of Patricia leaning back against him, her hair tickling his cheek, and the knowledge that if he moved his hand two inches further down...well, actually if he moved his hand two inches further down now, while they were surrounded by people, she'd probably turn round and slap him. But still. It was shaping up to be a good sort of afternoon.

_"Ahem hem."_ Apparently the microphone had won out, and Principal Miller bent double to talk into it. A ripple of laughter swept over the crowd. _"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I am delighted to see so many of you gathered here with enthusiasm in your eyes to celebrate... "_

Patricia stood on tip toe to whisper in his ear "Is that enthusiasm I spy in your eyes?"

Danny grinned. "Just happy to see you."

She laughed and stepped away from him. "Down boy."

_" ...we must never forget that while we may learn our lessons in the classroom there are other things that life has to teach us... "_

""Ten more," Rusty announced, sidling up, the paper envelopes in his hand.

Danny took them and stuffed them in his jacket. The track shorts and t-shirt Rusty was wearing didn't exactly offer much chance of concealment. Probably he should have been the one to sneak around and collect the last minute bets, but Patricia had been smiling, and Rusty hadn't minded. "All of them –"

" – in the book," Rusty nodded and handed the notebook over too.

Patricia rolled her eyes. "Don't you two ever say 'hello' like normal people?"

"Hi, Pat," Rusty grinned at her and dodged aside just before she leaned over and swatted him on the arm.

_"...Teamwork. Perseverance. Friendship The value of hard work and a proper sportsman – or woman – like attitude. These are the qualities... "_

"Lot of people betting on Jim Rogers in the high jump. Think we might have missed something," Rusty told him quietly.

He shrugged. So they'd lose some money there. Flicking through the book he was pretty sure that by the end of the day they were going to be up enough that it would make very little difference. "We'll see what happens. How about the 100 metres?"

"Split right across the board."

"If you're going to talk business, I'm going to go and find Gina," Patricia told him matter-of-factly.

He hesitated for a minute, but honestly, they really did need to talk. "Sorry."

She laughed and kissed him. "Used to it, remember? Catch you later. Good luck, Rusty." He watched her slip through the crowd towards her friends.

_"...And so I must conclude by reminding you that whatever lessons life throws at you, it is imperative that you learn how to pick yourselves up and start over. Remember it truly is not the winning that matters. It is the taking part. Thank you. "_

He looked round, vaguely surprised as the crowd applauded politely. "He done?" For Miller that had been a very short speech.

"Uh huh." Rusty sounded faintly bemused too. "I was assuming he was going to try and break his President's Day record."

For once they followed the crowd, and wandered to the side of the track where the first race was due to start. "No-one outstanding," Rusty told him. "So we didn't get many takers."

Danny nodded. "When are you – "

" – Not for a while."

He nodded again and checked the notebook. Most of the events there was no problem. As Rusty had said, they could be in a bit of trouble if Jim Rogers did win the high jump. And there was a similar cluster at the girls' 1500 metres, but they'd anticipated that. Kelly Sharp had been single-handedly responsible for the rep of their varsity team for two years now. "What about the hurdles?" he asked Rusty, carefully not smiling.

Rusty cocked his head. "What about them?"

"Should we be looking at you as a serious contender?" He knew that Rusty had tried to wriggle out of this whole sports day deal, but the fact that he hadn't managed it, well, that meant he was due some teasing.

"Are you asking as my friend or my business partner?" Rusty's expression was completely blank.

Okay. What? "Where does friendship come into this?"

"Well, obviously if you were my friend you'd be betting on me yourself," Rusty told him seriously. "Otherwise you could crush my fragile self-esteem."

"Your self-esteem could withstand a head on collision with a semi," Danny pointed out.

For a fraction of a second Rusty's eyes dropped to the ground, and a look of hurt crossed his face. Danny cursed silently. Oh, he knew he was being played, knew that this was what he got for all the mocking of the last few days, not to mention the things he'd said when he'd first seen Rusty in shorts, but he still couldn't help it. He grabbed the notebook, put a dollar in one of the empty envelopes and wrote his bet up. "Satisfied?"

Rusty grinned.

Then Doug Fletcher leaned in to him and produced an envelope of his own. "I'll take some of that action." Danny frowned, and it wasn't until he'd already taken the bet that he became aware of Rusty frantically shaking his head. He was about to ask why when Ami Sato shyly pushed an envelope into his hand. He barely had time to register Rusty's name on the bet before a dozen others came up, each waving their own envelopes.

Oh. Crap.

*

It was a while before they were able to sneak out of the crowd. And by that time they'd had nearly forty people lay the same bet. Things were looking pretty serious, and Danny cursed the genius idea that they'd had to distribute envelopes so that people could put their money inside and sneak the bets to them, even in class time. Because even though it had worked great up till now, it meant that they weren't given an opportunity to turn anyone down.

Rusty broke the stunned silence. "We're going to get lynched."

"Ohhh, yeah," Danny agreed.

Patricia came round the corner at a run. "What's going on? People are looking for you. How come everyone's wanting to bet on Rusty?"

"They think we're going to fix the race," Danny explained.

"You're not, are you?" Patricia's eyes narrowed.

Rusty shrugged. "Might have to, now."

"Wait," She looked confused. "Surely if everyone's betting on you, you need to lose, right? That way you don't need to pay out any money."

It was Danny's turn to shrug. It wasn't that simple. For one thing, if Rusty lost now, everyone would assume that he'd thrown the race, which would lead to the lynching, but more importantly if everyone thought that they'd deliberately set this up to part them from their money, they'd lose the reputation for honesty and fair-dealing that they'd worked so hard to achieve. And okay, so the reality was that they were thieves and liars and cheats, and maybe in any other world that made them the bad guys but this really wasn't their sort of con.

The lesson here was quite simple; never, ever bet in any book you're running.

"We're in serious trouble," he told Rusty, as the loudspeaker announced the imminent start of the boys' 400 metre hurdles.

Rusty nodded. "You more than me."

He said nothing, just waited.

"You're going to lose your dollar, I wouldn't have bet on me." He grinned and started heading towards the track.

Danny yelled after him "You know, one of these days I'm going to figure out just what I did to deserve you!"

Patricia elbowed him. Hard. "That wasn't a nice thing to say."

He smiled to himself. "Yes it was."

*

Oddly it wasn't until he was actually watching the race that it occurred to Danny that just like with his grades, maybe according to Rusty-logic, it wasn't the winning or the taking part, it was the not under any circumstances being noticed. Because contrary to all expectations – contrary to everything that was possible - Rusty was winning. And Danny was cheering himself hoarse, and it wasn't because of the averted-lynching, and it certainly wasn't because of any stupid one dollar bet.

After he'd crossed the finish line and dodged his way through the crowd, Rusty made his way over and flopped to the ground beside Danny.

"That was amazing," Patricia said, wide-eyed.

"I get a lot of practice," Rusty said, smiling as Danny passed him a bottle of water. "We're going to need to pay – "

A lot more than they'd made. Yeah. " - It's okay." They'd need to tap into his car fund, and Rusty's emergency money, but it was better this way. They could always make more money. Other things were harder to replace.

"And we owe Tommy Banner an A in Chemistry." Danny turned to look at him. Rusty shrugged. "I wouldn't have been able to beat him."

Fair enough, but an A? Tommy Banner? He shook his head sceptically. "Going to be tricky."

"If I do all his homework, and we get the paper in plenty time to coach him . . . "

Could work. And they could worry about it later. "You know they're going to want you to join the track team now."

Rusty groaned and covered his face with his arm. "Tell them I died," he said, voice muffled.

Danny laughed.

If the game was impossible, change the rules. That was the lesson.


	8. Other Nightmares Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 2\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 3\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 4\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 5\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 6\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 7\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 8\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

Being called to Principal Miller's office was far from a new experience for Danny, and he smiled at Ms. Carson, as he crossed into the outer office, and had to work hard not to let his surprise show when she smiled sympathetically back. How much trouble were they in here? They hadn't done anything too serious lately. Unless they'd somehow found out about the counterfeit lunch tickets scam. Or the thing with the guitar and the flood. Or, oh, God, maybe they'd found out about Chicago. Automatically he looked round for Rusty, but there was no sign. And Rusty was in Chemistry right now, sitting that test he'd been talking about. He would have been here long before Danny, if he'd been called into the office. Well. That was one good thing, anyway.

"Go right on in, Danny," Ms. Carson told him gently. There was something seriously wrong here.

There were four people in the room when he went in; Principal Miller, Attwood and two cops. That's never a good sign. Attwood and the Principal were talking quietly to each other, but as soon as they saw him they stopped and turned to look at him. Danny recognised the expression on their faces even though he wasn't normally the one that it was turned on. Concern. Pity. And just that ever-wonderful hint of fear that signals that they really, really wanted this to be someone else's problem. Something was seriously wrong.

"Danny. Please. Come in." Mr Attwood laid a fatherly hand on Danny's shoulder and steered him over to a chair.

Feeling more than a little on edge, Danny let him, even though, all things considered, he usually didn't like being in the same room as the bastard. "What's going on?" he asked, and he could hear the fear in his voice. "Tell me."

The adults exchanged glances. There was that look again. "Danny," Principal Miller began slowly. "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. There's been an accident." There was an unpleasant buzzing in Danny's ears. "Your father was caught in a pile-up on the freeway this morning."

"He's all right though," Danny interrupted, because he could see the shape of the oncoming sentence and the buzzing was getting louder and louder. "He's going to be all right."

The Principal took a deep breath and laid his hands flat on the table. "No, Danny. He's not. He's dead. I'm so, so sorry."

Attwood's hand was on his shoulder again, squeezing gently and he couldn't bear it. "Get away from me," he said quietly.

"Danny," Attwood's voice was gentle, but he wasn't _listening_. "We need to know who we can call. We've been trying to reach your mother, but we can't get a hold of her. Is there anyone else?"

"Get off me," Danny yelled and Attwood leapt back as though he'd been burned. Danny buried his face in his hands for a few seconds and wondered why he wasn't crying. He was aware of Attwood stepping closer again, hand outstretched. "Don't," he warned, and this time he was listened to. "Emma...Dad's girlfriend," he began. She should know. She had to be told.

The Principal brightened a little. "She could take you?" he suggested.

But the cops were looking at each other, and at their notebooks and one of them stepped forwards. "Would that be an Emma Smith?" he asked, and Danny knew even before the cop went on to say "I'm sorry. She was in the car."

His hands were shaking and the buzzing in his ears...it felt like he was going into freefall.

"Danny?" Dimly he heard the Principal, registered the concern in his voice. "Danny, just breath, okay?"

He choked back a laugh. It wasn't okay, and breathing wasn't what he needed. He knew exactly what – _who_ \- he needed, and he was up and running for the door before they could possibly understand or hope to stop him, only one thought in his mind.

*

Rusty couldn't help but think that Chemistry was much easier to deal with than a lot of other subjects. He'd already read through the test, thirty questions, multiple choice. So all he had to do was answer, say, twenty right and he'd be sitting on a nice, average score. Actually, maybe he'd get a couple more right. He liked Mr. Costanza, and the guy was completely convinced that he could be doing better if he tried. It was tests in things like English and History that he had to work harder to keep his marks even. Too many ambiguities, too many possible interpretations. He'd slipped up last month, got top marks in Mrs. Jones class.

She'd sent a letter home.

He wouldn't risk that again.

Chewing absent-mindedly on his pen lid, he started to consider which were the least suspicious questions to get wrong. Consistency, that was the key. Honestly, his test papers were works of art.

There was a loud bang, and he carefully didn't jump. He did look up though, and to say he was concerned to see Danny standing, shaking in the doorway would be one hell of an understatement. By the time Danny spotted him, Rusty had already stood up and was heading for the door.

"Yes, Mr. Ocean. Can I help you?" Mr. Costanza sounded polite and puzzled, and Rusty knew that he wasn't seeing what was there.

Danny said nothing, and Rusty, close enough now to see the emptiness in his eyes, wasn't at all surprised.

That was when Mr. Costanza spotted him. "Mr. Ryan! Please keep your seat."

Rusty ignored him, intent on Danny, who was blank and still and silent and nevertheless was practically begging him.

"Rusty. Sit down. Please."

He liked Mr. Costanza. He did. But not that much. Never that much.

"If you leave this classroom now, young man, you'll get a failing mark."

That would mean a letter home too. But it didn't even give him pause.

He reached the doorway, and Danny reached out and touched his arm. "I need... " he broke off, and shook his head, and his voice was quiet and choked and he didn't sound like Danny.

Rusty knew what he meant though. Someplace safe. Someplace hidden. "Come on," he said, promising everything.

Danny followed him obediently into the corridor, leaving Mr. Costanza spluttering, and the other students staring.

He hesitated for a couple of seconds, trying to decide where to go, and that was when the Principal, Mr. Attwood, Ms. Carson and two cops came round the corner. His breath caught in his throat, and he turned to stare at Danny, but Danny didn't seem to have registered. Danny didn't seem to be seeing anything other than Rusty, and maybe even that not so much.

Without even thinking, he reached out and grabbed Danny's hand and pulled him down the corridor and through the door to the right. Through this classroom – ignoring the startled exclamations of an interrupted physics lesson – out this door, down this staircase, out and up this corridor, paying no attention to the sound of heavy footsteps racing behind them, through this door marked 'Emergency Exit', up this fire escape, through this window and to the door marked 'Private. Roof Access'. Danny was breathing hard behind him. Rusty had had to help him every step of the way and it was only now that he let go of his hand. There was no sound of pursuit; he rather thought they'd lost them when they ducked out onto the fire escape. Still, he looked round carefully before he reached into his pocket for the paperclips he kept there. Some skills it really didn't pay to advertise. The lockpicks were at Danny's. Neither of them was nearly stupid enough to carry that kind of thing to school.

The door swung open and he hurried Danny out and onto the roof, before he made sure that the door was secured behind them. There was the sound of a muffled sob, and his heart broke. He turned round to see Danny sprawled bonelessly against the wall, tears streaming openly down his face.

Hoping with every fibre of his being that he was doing the right thing, never having felt quite so alone or quite so helpless, Rusty knelt in front of him and wrapped his arms tightly around his friend.

The sun was setting by the time Danny managed to cry himself out enough to whisper the truth into Rusty's shoulder; and it had been long dark by the time they let go of each other and made their silent, unsteady way back to Danny's house.

*

There was a police car outside his house, and he didn't even notice it until he was right on top of it. He stopped in the driveway and stared, until he felt Rusty tug on his sleeve. "'S all right. Come on."

He nodded and followed.

Mom was sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in front of her. Her eyes were red. Two cops – different ones than that morning - stood on either side. She looked up when he came in and ran over and hugged him tightly. For once it didn't feel like duty. "Oh Daniel, oh thank god, thank god."

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, but that just made her hold him tighter.

She finally released him and turned to Rusty and for a moment Danny thought she was going to hug him too, but he'd already stepped out of reach.

"Mrs. Ocean? We'll leave you to it now that your son is home."

"Yes, thank you officers." She smiled at them and Danny suddenly realised that she'd called the cops because he'd been missing for a few hours. Well, eight. That had never happened before.

The cops turned to look at Rusty. "Kid? Do you need a ride home?"

"He's staying," Danny said immediately. He couldn't stand to be alone, and that was what being without Rusty meant.

The cop blinked. "That's not really - "

" - Staying." Danny insisted and took a step backwards, towards Rusty. He felt a hand on his shoulder – comforting, reassuring - and remembered Attwood that morning, and wondered how it could feel so different.

"Listen," the cop said, looking past him, at Rusty. "Your parents must be worried sick."

"It's just his dad, and he doesn't care," Danny pointed out. Both cops turned sharply to stare at him. The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently, and Rusty stepped in front of him.

"I already called my father and told him where I'd be, sir. He doesn't mind."

Oh, right. Lying. He should have remembered to. He nodded. "That's right."

Mom cleared her throat. She was looking a little frightened and he didn't know why. "Robert is very welcome to stay."

That seemed to satisfy the cops, and they left, no doubt delighted to get shot of the lot of them.

"Oh, Daniel." Mom reached out her hand to him and caressed his cheek. He could remember her doing that a long time ago. When he'd been a child. For a moment he was afraid that he was going to start crying again. He wouldn't cry in front of her. "I'm so sorry. You should never have had to hear like that."

He nodded stiffly and unconsciously stepped back, closer to Rusty. "I'm going to bed."

She looked relieved. "That's probably a good idea."

"Mrs. Ocean? Ma'am?" Rusty's voice was quiet but he sounded determined. "I think Danny should eat something."

He wasn't hungry.

"But you need to eat," Rusty told him gently, and Danny had no idea whether he'd actually spoken aloud or not.

"I'll make sandwiches," his mom said, with as much enthusiasm as she'd earlier shown for sleeping, and Danny realised that she had no idea what to do with him.

Rusty led him through to the kitchen in her wake, and sat with him at the dining table, his hand resting on his arm. Danny stared at the polished surface of the table. So clean you could almost eat your dinner off it. That was what Dad always said. Except Dad didn't. Because he hadn't lived here for over a year. And now he didn't live anywhere and that was just too much for Danny to try and understand right now.

Suddenly his eyes were filled with tears and he looked up, trying to find where Mom was, and if she could see.

"She went into the next room. To phone your Uncle Harold," Rusty said.

Danny nodded and wiped at his eyes. Rusty's hand squeezed his. "Why?" he wondered.

"I think he was worried about you." Rusty answered, carefully.

Danny nodded again and suddenly realised that there was a sandwich in front of him. He lifted up a corner of it carefully. Chicken salad. "I'm not hungry."

"Try a bite. Please." Rusty was patient and pleading and a manipulative bastard.

"You eat it." Danny suggested.

"I've got my own." He did as well. An identical and equally untouched sandwich lay in front of him.

Danny sighed and began to nibble at his sandwich. Rusty smiled at him and he suddenly realised that actually he was incredibly hungry.

He laid the sandwich down. "I shouldn't be eating."

"Okay," Rusty nodded.

"He's dead, Rus'."

"I know, Danny, I know." Rusty squeezed his hand again and Danny waited for a moment, to see if he was going to say anything else. Anything stupid like 'It's going to be all right' or 'These things get better with time.' But he didn't. Of course he didn't.

Danny picked up the sandwich and finished it quietly.

Once he saw that Danny was eating again, Rusty wolfed his food down and fetched them both a glass of milk.

"Drink," he told Danny, and this time Danny just went along with it, even though he could have done with something stronger.

"Can we go to bed now?" he asked plaintively, once they were done.

"Of course." Rusty smiled at him again and it hurt a little less.

When they stepped out into the hall, they could hear Mom on the phone in the other room.

"No, he came home of his own accord thankfully." There was a pause. "Physically he's fine but ...you know, I'm not sorry Luke's dead, I just wish he'd managed to do it in some way that didn't hurt Daniel."

He was shaking again, he dimly noted, and he just wanted her to know. Rusty made no attempt to stop him as he stepped into the room and held her gaze. "Good night, Mom."

She stared at him aghast. "Daniel... "

"Good night," he repeated firmly.

"Good night," she said, defeat in her voice.

He didn't stop shaking until he reached the sanctuary of his room. Mom had set up a camp bed on the floor, he noticed dimly. That was actually considerate of her, but Rusty stayed over far more than she ever knew about – every night that it wasn't safe for him at home, if Danny had his way - and they'd never learned to bother.

He crashed heavily onto the bed, and rolled against the wall to make room. Rusty sat on the covers next to him.

Danny faced the wall and didn't look round. "It's not like..." He trailed off. It wasn't like it was anything he hadn't heard before. It wasn't like he'd seriously thought his parents still loved each other. Actually, he'd never quite been persuaded that they ever had. But couldn't she have just kept her mouth shut for this one night?

" – I know." Rusty said quietly, and Danny knew that he did.

He started crying again, and all he could focus on was the feel of Rusty's hand rubbing against his shoulder, and the sound of Rusty's voice. It took him quite a while to realise that Rusty was reciting his Chemistry revision, but it was peculiarly hypnotic and he was asleep long before he knew it.

The nightmares were unformed and indescribable and they woke him, screaming and kicking, after barely an hour of sleep. Rusty was awake immediately, and apparently hadn't moved in the slightest, and Danny had no real clue whether he'd actually been sleeping.

Rusty's hand was on his shoulder. "Danny. You with me?"

"He taught me to ride a bike," he said, without really knowing why.

"What?" Rusty blinked, and Danny considered that this was the sort of thing Rusty might genuinely not know about.

"It's what fathers do. Or are supposed to do. And he did it."

"Oh." Rusty shifted slightly, so he was lying down next to Danny.

"He wasn't there a lot. But sometimes he was. And he taught me to ride a bike." He'd also comforted Danny after a nightmare once. That Danny could remember, anyway. He'd been five, and Dad had told him that there was nothing hiding under the bed.

Danny swallowed. "I want my Dad."

Rusty said nothing, but he reached out and grasped Danny's hand, and Danny was safe and loved and for a moment he wanted to say thank you.

He didn't though. Because Rusty would never understand that he could have done anything less, and maybe that was because he really couldn't have.

*

It was sunny outside. Rusty had been expecting it to rain. It always rained at funerals in the movies. He'd nearly bought an umbrella, just in case.

He finished combing his hair in the mirror and figured that he looked as presentable as he could possibly manage.

Danny was still sitting on the bed, staring at the floor, shoes still untied, jacket crumpled in a heap next to him and he was twisting his tie through his fingers again and again and again.

Sighing, Rusty crossed the room, kneeling down in front of him and putting his elbows on his knees. "Hey. You need to get ready."

Danny didn't look at him, just carried on winding the tie round his hand.

Rusty reached out and stopped him.

Finally Danny looked up. "Will I have to see him?"

"No," Rusty shook his head quickly. "Closed casket." What he didn't tell Danny – what he was _never, ever_ going to tell Danny – was that his father's body had been burned and mangled almost out of recognition. He wasn't even sure why Danny's mom had felt the need to tell him, except that he got that maybe arranging the funeral of the man she'd been in the process of divorcing was a little stressful.

"Good." Danny's fingers closed over his desperately. "You won't leave me today." It wasn't a question, but Rusty shook his head anyway. He had hardly left Danny's side in the last four days. In fact the only time had been when he'd had to go into town to buy this suit. He hadn't owned anything suitable. And it _had_ been bought. That had seemed important. Even though the money wasn't...it had been bought. He hadn't left Danny until he was certain that Danny's mom was there, and was going to stay there. And even then, he'd come back to find that Danny had locked himself in the bathroom and it had taken Rusty nearly half an hour to talk him out.

He'd be there as long as Danny needed or wanted him. He just wished that there was more he could do.

"I won't leave you," he promised, leaning in closer, his arms still folded across Danny's knees. "But I'm not tying your shoelaces."

Danny blinked, and almost smiled. "Good. Because that would be strange," he said, in a dry tone that almost sounded Danny-like.

He stood back and let Danny fix his own shoes and jacket. "Tie," he prompted, when Danny looked like he thought he was set.

"Oh." Danny glanced down at the tie, wound tightly round his hand. "I couldn't get it straight earlier. Stupid thing's broken or something." Rusty frowned at the sharp edge of frustration in Danny's tone, that he'd been hearing more and more often over the past couple of days.

"It isn't broken," he said, voice entirely neutral. It was a tie. Ties couldn't break like that. "Give it here." Danny handed it over and he pulled it around his own neck. Okay, Danny was that much taller than him, so the long bit should be, say, that long. He tied the knot but didn't pull it tight. "There we go," he said, pulling it over his head and passing it back to Danny who blinked, put it on and slid the knot up to his collar.

"I've never even seen you wear a tie," Danny said, staring at him, as he reached over and made sure it was straight.

"I'm full of surprises," Rusty pointed out. Actually the sales assistant had shown him how, when he'd bought the suit. For once he'd told the truth, or a bit of it at any rate, and the man had fallen over himself to be helpful.

There was a sudden knocking at the door, and Danny's mom's voice. "Daniel? Are you two ready? We need to go."

Danny headed towards the door, but Rusty caught his arm quickly. "Danny. I won't leave," he promised again.

Danny looked back at him and nodded.

*

The funeral was everything that Danny had known it would be. He hadn't gone to the viewing the previous evening – the very thought of it sent shivers down his spine – and no, he had no idea what Rusty had said to Mom to get him out of it, but there was one more debt that he'd never be able to pay to the one person who would never think of making him. This, though, was the first time that he'd experienced the closeness, the overwhelming smell of flowers, the crowds of people.

Distant relatives, his dad's work colleagues, old college buddies, ex-tennis partners...Danny recognised hardly any of them, and he knew that they only recognised him because of context. Rusty was at his shoulder the whole time _(thank god, thank god, thank god)_ and Danny lost count of the number of times he heard someone say curiously "But I thought Luke only had one son?"

He had no idea what had been said during the service, or the eulogy. If it hadn't been for his mother's occasional glares, and Rusty's constant reassuring touch on his elbow, he doubted that he would have managed to stand and sit at the right times. And how he got through standing and letting all those strangers shake his hand he'd never know. They were all terribly sorry. They all said he was going to be all right, and that it would all get better with time. Luckily Danny had half a lifetime's experience of smiling at people and telling them what they wanted to hear.

Now his house was full of them, standing, chatting, drinking and eating vol au vents and he hated every last one of them. Mom was standing in the middle of the room, talking business with a couple of executive types. The perfect society hostess. Networking. At Dad's funeral.

Still, at least she was keeping well away from his grandmother. For a moment it had seemed as though they were going to come to blows at the graveside, before the funeral director had stepped in, looking like he dealt with this sort of thing everyday. Hell, maybe he did. Grandmother had been screaming about how Mom had never appreciated Luke, and that she knew that she was glad he'd died before the divorce came through, since she'd get the money. Something like that anyway. Danny hadn't really been listening, but it nearly always came down to money. He was prepared to concede that maybe Grandmother had a good excuse for smelling of gin today though.

He followed Rusty through the crowds of revellers, pretty certain that Rusty wasn't actually going anywhere in particular, just making sure that they weren't standing still long enough for anyone to try and talk to Danny. Mom had talked to them that morning. Well, she'd been talking to Danny, but she'd been looking at Rusty. Apparently they had to stay downstairs and be seen for at least an hour. It had been forty minutes now, and thanks to Rusty's efforts no-one had actually had a chance to speak to them. Unfortunately they still had to hear. Unsurprisingly, a lot of the mourners wanted to rehash old history.

"Ten years, you say? Damn, how did he keep a bit on the side hidden for that long? My wife found out after three months."

"You know Luke. He was sneaky like that. If he could hide everything from the IRS, you bet he could hide Emma from Barbara."

Rusty quickly steered them away from the two talkers – men from his dad's work, Danny would guess, but truthfully, today he probably wouldn't have recognised them if he'd met them a hundred times before. But everyone was talking about the same things, and Danny hated them even more.

"She was pregnant, you know."

Okay. That was different. He stopped dead, and Rusty turned back and laid an urgent hand on his arm.

Danny turned to look at the speaker, a woman in a dark, flowery dress. He thought she was a friend of Mom's. "Three months, the doctors reckon. I heard it from Colin, you know his brother's a pathologist."

Her friend giggled. "Who would have thought that Luke still had it in him?"

They suddenly caught sight of him and coloured guiltily, but he didn't wait around to hear their apologies. That was it. That was just a little too much, he had to get out of here now.

Ignoring Rusty's fast-spoken, soothing words, he ran into the kitchen, surprising the caterers. He searched through the cupboards until he found what he was looking for. The bottle of vodka that Dad had left there. His mother didn't drink it, hadn't wanted it in the drinks cabinet. She'd had some idea about using it in cooking.

He turned and caught Rusty staring from the bottle to him.

"I'm going to get drunk," he told him. "You coming with?" It wasn't a question. Rusty had promised.

Rusty nodded and followed him out the backdoor.

He headed up the hill to the old abandoned house. There were signs all around saying that it was dangerous, but they'd played there all the time when they were kids, being pirates and spies and astronauts and dragons, and more recently they lay out on what had been the roof and smoked where they could be certain that no-one could see them.

Danny climbed up onto the roof now and sat down. Rusty joined him after a couple of moments.

The bottle was three quarters empty, but it was still surprisingly difficult to wrench the lid off. And the stuff inside was even more difficult to swallow. When he'd had his fill, he passed it over to Rusty. "Drink."

"Danny...."

"Drink," he repeated, and Rusty took a sip. He barely got a mouthful, but he immediately handed it back.

Danny nodded and took another long gulp. This one was easier. Burned a little less. "I was going to be a big brother," he said, wonderingly.

"Do you – "

" – Yes." He wanted to talk about it. "It would have been...we would have taught that kid so _much_ , you know? It would have been amazing. Should have been. We'd have taught him how to talk to girls. How to whistle. I'd have taught him how to do wheelies on his bike. You could have taught him how to ride a skateboard. And he'd never have needed to know the other stuff,"

"But we would have taught him anyway," Rusty pointed out. "Just in case."

Danny looked at him for a long moment, and nodded. "Yeah. Just in case." He took another drink. "He'd never have to deal with things on his own. He'd always know that someone was there for him. That someone loved him."

"He wouldn't need to be scared," Rusty said, lighting a cigarette and offering Danny the packet.

"Never," Danny agreed, shoving it away. "Should have been that way."

"Danny – "

"It should have been that way!" He leapt to his feet, pacing up and down, and he could feel the building swaying beneath him. He spun to face his friend. "They all keep saying it's going to be all right. It's not. It's not all right, Rusty!" He was yelling, and he didn't even understand why, but he was furious.

Breathing hard, trying to calm down he put the bottle to his lips again, but it was empty. "It isn't fair!"

He threw the bottle at the wall and watched the shattered glass fall like rain.


	9. Other Nightmares 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 2\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 3\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 4\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 5\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 6\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 7\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 8\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17
> 
> This is the second part to the story started in the last chapter, so if you haven't already read that, go read it now. :)

He'd left the kitchen door open, and as he cooked he kept an eye on the living room where Danny was sleeping on the sofa.

Two hours had passed since Danny had nodded off while they'd been watching cartoons and Rusty had tucked the comforter around him. It was the longest bit of uninterrupted sleep Danny had got in the week since his father had died, and Rusty could only hope that it would last at least a few more hours. Because tomorrow they were going back to school, whether he thought it was a good idea or not, and Rusty wasn't going to be able to spend all his time at Danny's side when that happened. From what Danny's mother had said, Attwood had arranged for Danny to get all the breaks he needed; but no more time.

He yawned, and flipped the sandwich over in the pan. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Not the most interesting food, and they'd be worse reheated, but coaxing Danny into eating was as difficult as coaxing him into resting. Having something prepared could only help. If he could only keep his eyes open long enough to avoid burning them.

There was a cough from behind him. He dropped the spatula and sprang away from the stove. Stupid. So stupid.

Danny's mother was standing there, watching him blankly. She'd been working late again and he hadn't really expected to see her.

He smiled easily. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ocean. You startled me."

"I see." Her voice was expressionless, and he knew that she _did_ see. He wasn't naïve enough not to know that Danny had told her long ago.

"Danny's asleep," he nodded towards the living room.

She looked through the door, but made no motion to go through. He watched her carefully, and wondered exactly what she wanted from him. "I'm glad he's eating." She glanced at the sink. Oh, god, he hadn't got rid of the cereal dish from that morning. He'd only been able to persuade Danny to eat a few spoonfuls of multi-coloured whatever before Danny had dumped the dish in the sink, and Rusty had just left it there.

"I'm sorry, I'll clean it up," he promised, and tried to dart past her to the sink without actually getting in touching distance. "I'm sorry," he repeated, but she was staring over his shoulder. He turned and saw the pillar of black smoke rising from the pan.

Swearing, he pulled the pan off the heat and flipped the blackened sandwich into the garbage bin. Cautiously he examined the bottom of the pan and pulled a face. Ruined.

There was a noise behind him, and he jumped again and the pan clattered to the floor. Danny's mother. He'd forgotten. Great. Just great. "I'm sorry," he repeated again, picking up the pan and putting it in the sink to cool down.

"It's fine." she said, and paused, frowning at him. He stepped back, surreptitiously. "Actually, I'm glad, in a way. Believe me, Robert, I'm happy that you're getting Danny to eat. But breakfast cereal and grilled cheese sandwiches don't exactly make a balanced diet."

It was Rusty's turn to frown, and he turned his head to the side, studying her carefully. "I'm sorry?"

""It's important to get a proper balance of the basic food groups. Every day should involve protein – that's meat and fish, Robert," she added, seeing his blank look. "Carbohydrates – that's bread, pasta and rice – as well as dairy products and plenty of fruit and vegetables and not too much salt or sugar."

"Oh," was about all he could manage to say. He just managed to stifle a yawn.

She frowned at him again. "Danny's still growing. It's important that he gets the proper nutrition. Proper cooked meals are essential, if you want what's best for Danny."

Ah. Well. He lived on spaghetti hoops and potato chips for a reason. "I don't know how to cook."

And there was a look that he was far too tired to try and identify. "I'll show you. And there are recipe books on that shelf there." She crossed to the fridge and started pulling out ingredients and laying them on the counter. "Risotto, I think."

"Uh, Danny doesn't like mushrooms," he said, nodding at the bag in her hand.

She stared at him blankly. "Oh." There was a pause and she stared at the pile of food. "He does like everything else there, though?"

He nodded and she seemed to relax a little. "Very good. The first thing to do is to..."

There was a muffled cry from the living room. Instantly Rusty turned away and went through to Danny, aware of Danny's mom watching him go.

By the time Danny had fallen asleep again, after a long and wordless conversation, she had vanished, presumably into her study. With a sigh he went back into the kitchen and pulled down a recipe book.

*

They were on the roof of the abandoned house again. He was spinning the unopened vodka bottle in the dust. Rusty was lying on his stomach, flicking pebbles off the edge.

For the third day in a row they had come straight here after school instead of heading home. School had been...actually Danny had no idea how school had been. He spent his time staring out the window, and he hadn't handed in any work. No-one had said anything.

Silence. Seemed to be everywhere these days. The teachers didn't say anything when he didn't say anything to them. His mother hadn't said anything when she'd given him fifty dollars yesterday, for no reason he could see. Tommy Owen hadn't said anything when they'd met him after school and handed over fifteen dollars for the alcohol his older brother had bought for them...for Danny. And Rusty hadn't said anything as they walked up the hill, though that still felt different.

And, yes, okay, so he'd not been talking either. But he wanted to now. He leaned the bottle against the wall. "I didn't hate him, you know."

There was a pause and then Rusty rolled onto his back before sitting up and regarding Danny evenly. "Of course you didn't."

But there was no _'of course'_ about it, and they both knew that. "I said I did. The last time I spoke to him."

"Danny – "

" – Two days before...he phoned me to say that he wouldn't be able to see me over Thanksgiving. He and Emma were going out of the country."

"He knew you didn't hate him, Danny." Rusty said quietly, and Danny wondered how Rusty always knew what he needed to know.

"Really?" he asked and hated the desperation in his voice.

"Of course he did." Rusty moved closer to him, gaze perfectly steady. "You hear the kids talking in school. Everyone says that they hate their parents sometimes. If they believed it every time..." he shrugged. "There'd be a lot of pretty fucked-up adults walking around. He knew you were just angry."

"It hurt," Danny said quietly after a moment.

"Yeah."

"He'd promised." He laughed bitterly. "But who keeps their promises anyway, right?"

He reached for the bottle and untwisted the cap.

"Danny... " Rusty sighed.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing," Rusty said quickly and Danny looked away from him and poured himself a drink.

*

Danny leaned on the restroom sink and studied his reflection in the mirror. No doubt about it, that was definitely a black eye forming. And there was a lot of blood around his mouth. He wiped at it with a paper towel and winced.

"Hurts less if you dab," Rusty's voice came from the doorway.

He turned round slowly. "You should see the other guy."

"I have. You look worse," Rusty answered, crossing over and taking the towel out of his hand.

"Still won though," Danny pointed out, smugly, as Rusty ran the towels under cold water and held them to his face.

"Uh huh."

"I did," he insisted. "I beat the crap out of him – "

" – once he'd finished beating the crap out of you. I know. I heard."

There'd been a certain tone to Rusty's voice, and Danny frowned. "Hey, it was Buzz Fairley. Not like he couldn't defend himself."

Rusty grabbed Danny's jaw gently and turned his head to the side, frowning at whatever he was seeing. "You need the nurse's office."

"I think they might guess I've been fighting." Danny pointed out.

Rusty sighed. "Hate to break it to you, but that one's all over school. Principal Miller's going to be calling you up to his office next period."

Oh well. His thumb traced a pattern over the bruises on his knuckles. "That's – "

" – taken care of," Rusty interrupted. "I took care of it."

Danny stared at him. "How?" he demanded.

Rusty brushed past him towards the sink and splashed some cold water into his face. "Found some people willing to say that they'd seen Buzz throw the first punch."

"He didn't," Danny pointed out harshly.

"I know," Rusty leaned against the sink and rubbed at his eyes. "But with his record, and...everything, you probably won't even get detention."

Unaccountably furious, Danny pushed himself away from the wall suddenly, and glared down at Rusty. "Are you ever going to let me make my own mistakes?"

Rusty met his gaze steadily. "Probably not."

"I don't need you," Danny yelled, and he could hear the lie in his own voice as clear as daylight.

There was a long silence. Danny closed his eyes and tried not to cry. "I didn't mean it," he whispered, and Rusty said " _I know_ ," at the exact same moment, and Danny couldn't quite figure out which he was agreeing with. But when they turned to walk out of the restroom and head to the nurse's office, Rusty's arm brushed against his, and they were walking in step, and he told himself over and over that it was all going to be okay.

*

Personally, Rusty couldn't understand how it was any of their business where he spent his time, as long as he turned up to school and did a reasonable amount of work, but apparently no-one else saw it that way. Attwood had called Danny's mom, and she'd told them that she didn't want to see him round at their house that night. He had a sneaking suspicion that the magic word had been used. Social Services. Actually, that was two words.

Anyway, he had promised. She wouldn't _see_ him. He and Danny had agreed that he'd come over when it got dark instead.

So now, for the first time in nearly two weeks he was sneaking back home. He swung the door open quietly and peered into the living room. It was deserted, so he tiptoed inside, shut the door gently, held his breath and listened. There were vodka bottles stacked around the couch, and the sound of snoring coming from behind Dad's closed door. Not particularly good, but it could be worse. If his luck held he'd be out again before his Dad woke up. And in the meantime, he should have time to get something to eat and maybe even get in a few hours sleep.

He dumped his stuff in his room and headed into the kitchen. There was a note and five dollars taped to the fridge, both wrinkled enough that he'd guess they'd been there for a while. 'Get some shopping, shithead.' Nice. He shook his head with a kind of exhausted, bewildered amusement and opened the fridge.

There wasn't much there. He pulled out a packet of processed ham and cautiously pulled back the wrapper before immediately recoiling in disgust. Well. That was going straight in the garbage. He should have stopped by Mabel's on the way home. Didn't really know why he hadn't, except that when they'd been in there earlier that week, Danny had yelled at her when she'd offered her sympathy, and though he knew – _knew_ – that as soon as he walked in there she'd be giving him free food and refusing to listen to his apologies, but he also knew the way she'd look at him, and he just couldn't handle it. And he hadn't had the chance to pick up any cash, meaning that anything else was out. So. Stale bread and cheese that looked all right it was.

It took him a while to find a knife, and a little longer to clean it and maybe he was a little too tired, or a little too preoccupied, because he didn't hear the snoring stop, didn't hear Dad's bedroom door open, didn't know until it was far too late.

"So you're back, you little bastard." The voice, hoarse and slurred came from the doorway. He froze. Didn't turn round.

"Yes, sir." Why was he so stupid? He'd known Dad was home, why had he gone into the kitchen where there were no windows and only the one door? He'd let himself be trapped; he really was asking for it.

Dad lumbered further into the room, closer to him, and Rusty could smell the alcohol. The knife was heavy in his hand and he squeezed the handle tightly for a long moment before carefully laying it down and turning round.

Dad was stood there staring at him, wearing a stained shirt and jeans, vodka bottle held loosely in his hand, and Rusty forced himself to stand perfectly still and silent, waiting for him to speak. "There's no clean laundry," Dad said at last.

Yeah. No kidding there was no clean laundry. He hadn't been here for a fortnight, and oddly enough clothes didn't tend to make the trip to the laundrette by themselves. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly, respectfully and sincerely. Sometimes an apology helped. As long as he didn't sound scared.

Dad nodded understandingly and suddenly threw the bottle at the wall and the shattered glass fell like rain.

Rusty flinched and hated himself.

"You think that's good enough? Fuck, boy, why do you never learn?" Dad reached out, and even if he was going down in the face of the inevitable there were still things he could try and fix.

He stepped backwards quickly and held his hands up. "Wait," he said, in his best reasonable tone.

Surprisingly Dad did as he asked, and stood there, head to one side, watching him.

"Listen," Rusty went on in the same tone. The one he used to impress adults with his maturity. "I've got too much going on right now. The last thing I need to be doing is playing games with social services." He swallowed hard and raised his head defiantly. "Keep it off the face, okay? Keep it where I can hide it."

Dad stepped back from him suddenly and in anyone else Rusty would have classed that expression as horror, or even self-loathing.

Whatever was going on, he wasn't one to miss any opportunity, and as soon as Dad moved, he dived past him, heading for the door at full speed.

He'd almost reached it when he felt a hand grasp the collar of his shirt.

*

Danny ran into his room and slammed the door shut. Not that he thought she'd notice for a second. With trembling hands he reached under the bed and pulled out the bottle. Then he swore; there was less than a quarter left. If he was going to be dealing with Mom this weekend he was going to need considerably more.

She'd called him selfish. They'd been watching a movie _(Singing in the Rain, and he'd never admit to anyone other than Rusty how much he liked that film.)_ and she'd started in on how people were beginning to talk. How Juliet Darcey had said she'd seen him smoking with That Boy yesterday. And not for the first time Mom had carefully explained how everything he did reflected on her. She'd told him he should be getting over everything now, that he was just indulging himself, dragging his problems out. That he was selfish. Like his father.

And then the phone had rang, and she'd gone to the study to answer it, and Danny had run upstairs and headed for the bottle and wished that Rusty was there.

*

He limped over to the side of the road and carefully lowered himself to sit on the edge of the sidewalk. Dad had done what he'd asked – well, almost. He had one small bump on his forehead, courtesy of the doorframe, but if he brushed his hair down in just the right way, he was pretty sure it was covered. Which meant that, all things considered, things were looking good. He wondered how Danny was faring. There'd been the slight implication that Danny's mom had been planning to try for some quality time. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that was what Danny needed, because Rusty wasn't convinced he was helping in the slightest. Maybe he'd go over tonight and Danny would be sleeping peacefully after a pleasant evening. And maybe he'd be dive-bombed by a flying side of ham.

Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. Three left. He'd need to pick up a new packet, but he wasn't up to picking pockets right now. And he didn't have any cash. And he couldn't get cash because he wasn't up to picking pockets right now. And normally Danny could get him some. Except that would involve Danny knowing why he couldn't get his own. And he wasn't going to lay his problems on Danny now. But if he was going to hide things from Danny for the whole weekend, he was going to need more cigarettes. But he couldn't get cigarettes because . . .

He shook his head, trying to fall out of the circle he seemed to be thinking in. After all, he'd figure something out, like always. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth, patted his pockets and groaned. Terrific. No lighter. He glanced at the building behind him; he wasn't going back for it.

"Hey! Rusty!" At the sound of the voice he turned his head. Buzz Fairley stood there, looking at him. And whoever had actually won, Buzz's bruises really didn't look as bad as Danny's.

"Buzz. Got a light?" he held up his cigarette.

"Ah. Sure." Buzz sat beside him and passed him a matchbook. "Look, I don't know what you heard, but I really didn't want to fight Ocean."

"Uh huh." That actually matched what he heard.

"I mean, I got no problem with him and I heard about his old man, and I don't care what they say about me, I'm not like that. He just wouldn't quit, you know? I mean, if you'd heard what he was saying..." Buzz shook his head, "Stuff about my sister and all. But I still walked away, you got that? I walked away and then he swung for me."

"Uh huh." Rusty lit the cigarette and breathed in. That hit the spot. "You got a problem with me?"

"Because you set me up?" Buzz shook his head dismissively. "Nah. I've got a brother. I get it. Figure that makes us even for Ocean. And 'sides, you're, what, twelve? I'm not like _that_ either"

Rusty turned to look at him. "So?"

"So we're even, got it?" Buzz said, staring at him evenly. "Don't come after me."

Right. He sighed. "Buzz, you're four years older than me and about twice my size," he pointed out. "What exactly do you think I'm going to do?"

"Jeez, I don't know. But I've heard the rumours and I don't _want_ to know."

He laughed and grasped his side with a grimace. The rumours. Right. Because they could do _anything_.

"Hey, Rusty, man, are you all right?" Buzz frowned.

"Peachy," he said, straightening up with a grin.

Buzz hesitated. "Was it Ocean? Because I was totally holding back. You want, I'll kick his ass."

"No!" He turned and glared at Buzz. "It wasn't him and don't you go near him. Understand?"

"Cool," Buzz held up his hands. "It's cool." He stood up and paused before walking away. "By the way, you got blood on your face."

Perfect. Just perfect.

*

There were no lights in the house except for Danny's window. That was good. It was cold out and if he'd had to wait until Danny's mom went to bed he'd probably have got cranky. He scoured the ground until he found a handful of suitable pebbles. They rattled satisfyingly against the window and after a couple of seconds it opened.

Now he just had to climb the tree. He eyed it doubtfully and corrected himself. He had to climb the tree and not give any vocal indication of how difficult it was going to be. Schooling his face into blankness, he searched his pockets for a moment, found a piece of fluff covered toffee and popped it into his mouth. Disgusting, but better than biting into his lip.

Climbing the tree took longer than it normally would. Usually if he was this beat up he'd get Danny to give him a hand. And until he reached the window and saw Danny slumped against the wall, until he saw the empty bottle, he was surprised that Danny hadn't come to check on him.

He clambered through the window, and managed to avoid wincing when he had to put his full weight on his bad leg for a moment. "How many have you had?" he asked, cautiously, considering the merits of a trip to the Emergency Room. His mom had taught him all about alcohol poisoning at an early age.

Danny looked up at him. Well, that was a good start. He couldn't be that far gone. "A few. Couple of glasses maybe. Wasn't that much left."

"I see." Relieved he sat down on the floor and leaned back against the bed.

"My mom was being...Mom was being Mom. And I couldn't take it. You weren't here." There was an accusation in Danny's voice, and Rusty closed his eyes.

"Wish I had been," he said, after a moment.

"Yeah," Danny agreed.

There was a pause, and Rusty realised that he was in danger of nodding off. He stood up, went over to the window and breathed in the cold air. If Danny was drunk he needed to stay awake, make sure he was all right...or as all right as he could be.

"Thinking of going out?" Danny asked, coming over to join him.

He shook his head. "Nah. I'm good."

"Could get another bottle. Was thinking, actually, that maybe we should get fake ID."

"Don't think we'd pass for twenty one, Danny," he said lightly.

There was a loud bang as Danny slammed his hand down on the desk. He didn't jump. Didn't. It was Danny. _It was Danny_.

"I can pass for eighteen. Eighteen year olds drink," Danny said belligerently.

Rusty swallowed. "Eighteen year olds drink because they pass for twenty one," he said. Something of a simplification, but hopefully Danny would go along with it.

"You think I'm drinking too much, don't you?" Danny asked quietly.

Yes. But he didn't say anything. And when Danny stepped closer, he didn't back away.

"I can handle it," Danny told him.

"Maybe you should cut back," he said.

With a sudden movement Danny stepped away from him and paced up and down the room, swearing loudly.

"Danny, shush. Keep it down, your mom will hear," Rusty begged frantically.

"Like she cares," Danny spat at him. "I'm fed up of people telling me what I should do."

"You never listen anyway," Rusty pointed out, hoping against hope that Danny would pick up what he wasn't saying. What he _always_ wasn't saying. 'I'm on your side. I'm still here, with you.'

Without warning, Danny swung round and lashed out and the crash of his fist against the wall, inches from Rusty's face was a sound that was going to linger.

It was Danny though. He had to remember that. It was _Danny_.

*

He woke up with the worst headache of his life and no real idea of what had happened the previous night. He remembered going upstairs after his mom had...well, he remembered going upstairs. And he thought that at some point Rusty had arrived. Which was good; at least he wouldn't have done anything too stupid. Wouldn't have had the opportunity; Rusty had been in complete protective-mode lately, and Danny would never say just how grateful he was, how much he needed it, how much it meant to him that Rusty was there; but he would have to make sure that Rusty knew, just the same.

Shifting slightly to try and ease the pounding in his head, he decided to stay under the covers for a few more blissful moments. In the future he wouldn't let Mom get to him so much. And he certainly needed to cut back on the vodka. This wasn't worth it.

Eventually he got up. It took time and had to happen in stages, but it did happen. Rusty was sitting at the desk, apparently doing homework, and hadn't seemed to notice Danny. Which was surprising to say the least.

He frowned at his alarm clock and then frowned at the back of Rusty's head. "You do realise it's Saturday morning?"

Rusty turned round sharply. "When did – "

" – Few minutes ago." He wasn't going to be turned aside that easily. "What's with the homework?"

Rusty shrugged, but it was a little too awkward and a little too controlled. "Couldn't sleep." Danny's frown deepened; Rusty did look exhausted. And more than that...

"You all right?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light. "You look about as good as I feel."

Rusty smiled at him. "Hung-over? My dad swears by..." he trailed off awkwardly before adding "Coffee's supposed to help."

Yeah. Not the sort of territory they normally ventured into this early in the morning. "Sounds good. Think I'm swearing off vodka for life, by the way."

Huh. He saw the expression of sheer relief that flickered across Rusty's face. He couldn't have been that bad last night, surely? Then he saw something else. He saw the darkness of a bruise and the hint of dried blood and he sighed and leaned forwards to gently brush the hair off Rusty's forehead so he could get a better look at the damage.

Rusty flinched away from his hand.

They both froze.

Danny stared down in horror at Rusty, who was looking equally panicked. Because Rusty was never afraid of him. Never Ever. Oh, Danny knew how much it took for Rusty to stand still and let an adult get within touching distance, and he knew that in the bad times that extended even to other kids...but not Danny. Never Danny. Never Ever. It was a little part of what made them, and it couldn't have changed without him noticing. The world couldn't have changed just like that. Not again.

"Danny – " Rusty began, but Danny couldn't hear the rest because the blood was pounding in his ears.

He remembered. He remembered yelling, remembered Rusty trying to calm him down. He remembered drinking too much, and he remembered yelling. At Rusty. And he remembered hitting the desk, and he remembered his fist slamming into the wall, and oh god, he remembered the look on Rusty's face, but he didn't remember anything else. He didn't remember anything else, but he'd woken up and Rusty had a bruise that he hadn't had yesterday and Rusty was afraid of him.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head and backing away. "No, no, no, no, _no_."

Rusty stood up and stepped towards him. "Danny. Danny listen to me. I'm sorry. It was my fault, you didn't – "

_(Seven year old Rusty looking up at his new friend, with a black eye and a cheerful grin. "I was bad."_

_Rusty at ten, the two of them sitting on the pavement in the darkness. Danny trying not to stare at the latest collection of bruises. "It was my fault. Should have known better.")_

He shook his head. Couldn't listen to this. Not when he'd failed so badly. "No!"

Danny ran.

*

Despite the fact that he'd headed away from everything familiar and deliberately tried to find some place he'd never been before, Danny wasn't altogether surprised when Rusty found him within an hour.

He was sitting on a pile of crates and when Rusty limped down the alley towards him he was just too far gone to try and run anymore.

Rusty stopped a little way away from him. "Can I lie to you?" he demanded.

Danny blinked slowly. "What?"

"Have I ever successfully lied to you?" Rusty asked, staring at him like it was the most important question he'd ever asked.

And Danny knew the answer immediately. They'd never been able to lie to each other. They always knew. "No," he admitted.

Rusty nodded. "You didn't hit me," he said emphatically. "It didn't happen, Danny."

He nodded but still wasn't quite convinced.

Rusty sighed. "Do you know who you are?"

What sort of question was that? "Yes?" he offered.

Maintaining eye contact, Rusty pulled his t-shirt over his head and Danny forced himself not to turn away at the sight. Rusty's stomach and chest were mottled with dark bruises, shiny and swollen and sickening. "Could you have done this?" Rusty demanded.

Danny closed his eyes and imagined himself, standing over Rusty, his fist slamming into Rusty's body over and over and over. His eyes slammed open and he leaned over the side of the crate and threw up everything that he'd ever eaten. He didn't do that. He couldn't have done that. He knew who he was.

He felt Rusty's hand rubbing his shoulders, and heard Rusty's voice whispering in his ear. "It's going to be all right, Danny. It is. I'm going to make it all right. I promise."

Odd that he believed it, but he did.

Finally he sat back up and wiped his mouth. Rusty had put his shirt back on and Danny looked at him for a long moment. "It was your cooking," he declared.

Rusty smiled slightly. "I'll get better at it."

"Unless we both die of food poisoning first." Danny paused. "You were..." Afraid of me. He didn't say it, but they both heard it.

Rusty didn't deny it. "It wasn't your fault," he said instead. "I'm still here."

And Danny knew that he'd been forgiven, by Rusty if not by himself. That would take a lot more.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he said quietly, looking at the ground. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, what I'm supposed to be feeling."

With a slight grunt of pain, Rusty hopped up onto the crate next to him and leaned against him. "Since when did you ever do what you're supposed to do?" he asked quizzically.

Danny smiled, very briefly. "I don't know – "

" – Here's what's going to happen." Rusty interrupted. "We're going to spend today like it was any other Saturday. We're going to wander around and try not to get into any trouble and not think more than five minutes ahead, okay?" That sounded like a good idea. Though personally Danny thought the last two points were probably mutually exclusive. "And then we'll go back to yours, and get a good night's sleep, and we'll find out what happens tomorrow."

He nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Good." Rusty struggled up off the crate. "Which only leaves one question"

Danny raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Where exactly are we?"

He shrugged. "We're in the last place I thought you'd look for me."

Rusty looked at him strangely. "Well, of course it was the last place I looked for you. Why would I keep on looking for you after I found you?"

He shook his head and decided that he didn't want to get involved in that one. "Do we need to go to the hospital?" he asked instead.

"Nah, we need to go to Mabel's," Rusty said grinning. "You need to apologise, and I need to eat."

Laughing, he sprang off the crate and joined Rusty. Then he paused. Because there was still something. "If I – "

" – You didn't," Rusty interrupted him immediately, fiercely.

He knew that. But still. "If I did – "

" – You wouldn't," Rusty said, tight-lipped.

He persisted. "But if I did – "

" - You couldn't!"

He sighed. "Rusty," he begged.

Rusty stared at him for a very long time, and then sighed and seemed to relax. "If you ever hit me, I'll hit you right back," he promised.

"Thank you," Danny said quietly, and he was satisfied.

Because Rusty was still there. And so was he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment or kudos if you have the time.


	10. Something More Than It Should Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
> 2.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 3\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 4\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 5\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 6\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 7\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 8\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 9\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

Danny was glad that he'd brought a jacket. It was only September, but it was _cold_. Mind you, he wasn't normally out this late, on his own or otherwise. Maybe this was normal.

The yelling hadn't stopped, either during dinner or after, and he just hadn't been able to take it anymore. So he'd scrambled down the tree outside his window, which had proved much more difficult than he'd imagined it would be. He'd nearly fallen twice, and the scrapes on his hands were stinging like anything. Still, this was an adventure, and even walking nearly an hour across town hadn't done anything to dampen his enthusiasm.

Staring up at the building did though. The lights were still on in the apartment, so there was no problem there, but he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say if Rusty's dad answered. Which at this time of night was more than likely.

"Little late for you to be out, isn't it?"

He turned round quickly. "I could say the same thing." he said, regarding Rusty evenly. He was sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against a doorstep, hiding in the shadows, and Danny could almost, _almost_ understand how he hadn't noticed.

Rusty grinned and Danny took the invitation and sat down beside him. They sat in silence for a while, Rusty watching the lights in the building across the way and Danny trying not to look at the piles of bloodstained tissues dotted around Rusty's feet, and trying not to count the bruises lining his face, and trying not to watch the black eye that he would swear he could almost see swelling in front of him, and trying not to stare too hard at the split lip, or the ragged gash along his cheekbone, and trying not to ask the question.

"So, why are you out?" Rusty asked, at last.

"Same reason you are, I guess." Danny said absentmindedly, wriggling against the cold wall, trying to get comfortable.

Rusty nodded understandingly. "They threw you out."

"No!" Danny turned round sharply. "He _threw you out_?"

"Emphasis on the 'threw'." Rusty said, with the grin that Danny hated, rubbing at the graze on his cheek.

Danny reached out and pulled his hand away. "You'll start it bleeding again." he said quietly and sighed. "He can't do that. You know that, right?"

"Well, he can do that. He did do that." Rusty said, with a shrug. "Don't worry," he added, seemingly on seeing Danny's expression. "He always forgets by morning. I'm just waiting until they go to bed, then I'll sneak back in."

"They? Your mom came back?" Danny asked, before he could stop himself.

Rusty looked at the ground. "No."

Danny offered a silent apology and Rusty granted silent acceptance.

"I suppose I've run away from home." Danny said, after a few moments.

"Uh huh." Rusty said, looking sideways at him. "Aren't you supposed to take a few treasured belongings wrapped up in a handkerchief?"

"Couldn't find one." Danny answered immediately. He'd run with less than fifty cents in his pocket, but to be honest, this was as far as he'd ever expected ( _wanted_ ) to get. And he couldn't say why Rusty made him feel better, but there was something, _this_ was something, and it did, and it was good..

"How bad was it?" Rusty asked and Danny wished that he'd managed to bring himself to ask the question first.

"Oh, you know. The usual." he said, lightly. "I think they've forgotten how to talk in anything less than a bellow, and they're breaking plates faster than they can replace 'em. Oh, and Juliet Darcey saw us getting thrown out of the arcade on Saturday."

Personally, he didn't think it was such a big deal, but not only did Mom think it was, she also seemed to think it was Dad's fault. Something about a lack of proper role models. Honestly, they'd only been fixing the crane game, and it had just been to stop a couple of brats from crying. Though maybe, with the benefit of hindsight, ten plushy toys for a dime was pushing it.

Rusty frowned. "What was Juliet Darcey doing at the arcade?"

"You know, that's what _I_ wanted to know." he agreed. He didn't feel like sharing the rest. Not at the moment. Not quite. Not yet.

Rusty looked at him, and he could see the understanding and the sympathy and the agreement to wait, and he accepted it and countered it with a look that said, quite simply 'Your turn.'

"I didn't catch her name," Rusty said, after a minute. "She laughed a lot though," he added, absently rubbing at the scrape on his cheek again, and as Danny grabbed his hand to make him stop, he wondered, not for the first time, how Rusty was able to treat his petty problems as if they in some way compared. Because however bad it got at home, he'd never need to worry about being thrown out on the streets, bruised and bleeding and alone.

"But you _are_ out here," Rusty said quietly. "None of it's right, is it?"

It wasn't a rhetorical question, so Danny shook his head. "No. It's not right."

Rusty sighed. "I don't care, you know that? About the woman. Whoever she is. Mom isn't coming back, and even if she did...so what? I don't care."

Danny nodded and pretended that he believed the lie and Rusty smiled and pretended he believed that Danny believed. There were ways of getting through everything, and tomorrow they would still have to be fine.

"A woman called for Dad during dinner," Danny remarked lightly, knowing just what Rusty would pick up on. He paused. "Her name was Emma. She sounded nice."

Rusty looked at him, understanding shining in his eyes, "And – "

" – yeah. Dad said he'd asked her not to call him here. Guess it's been going on for a while." He echoed Rusty, absentmindedly. "I don't care." And he found that it was just a little closer to being true than it should have been. "I don't _care_ ," he repeated more forcefully. "Why should I care? They don't want me."

He stopped. He hadn't exactly intended to say that. After a second, he leaned over, leaned on Rusty, and didn't even bother trying to pretend that it was anything other than what it was.

"There's a difference between wanting someone and loving them, I think," Rusty said, quietly, after a long moment. "And they do care about you. You know that. They want what's best for you."

Yeah. They wanted him safe, and normal, and as far from Rusty's influence as possible. "They have no idea what's best for me."

Rusty smiled broadly, and the blood oozed out of his lip and trailed down his chin. "I didn't say they were any good at it." He frowned and looked uncomfortable. "But they do love you."

"You think I should go back?" Danny questioned.

Though Rusty didn't say anything, Danny was left pondering his other options. There weren't many.

"You think I should go back," he concluded. "Guess I don't have any choice."

"You've got choices," Rusty said immediately. "Just no good ones. Trust me; you don't want to try sleeping on the street."

Danny suddenly felt as though someone had yanked the floor out from under him. Rusty's words played over and over again in his mind and he turned and stared at his friend – his ten year old best friend, who deserved so much better – and hoped that he'd misunderstood.

The embarrassed expression that Rusty was wearing, and the way he wouldn't meet his eyes told him he wasn't. "Only twice," Rusty muttered, defensively.

Danny continued to stare. He couldn't help it.

"Once, before I met you." Rusty was staring at his shoes, like they were the most interesting things he'd ever seen. "Just for a couple of days. And this summer, while you were away."

There was so much he wanted to ask; so much that he was going to have to ask at some point. But he could feel the difference between not wanting to talk about it, and not being _able_ to talk about it, so he settled on simply asking; "How long?"

"A week. It wasn't that bad." And there was a lie that _hurt_.

Danny tried to ignore the strange prickling at the back of his eyes. "I'm – "

"Don't you dare apologise!" Rusty said sharply, looking straight at him. "None of it's your fault. You can't fix everything."

He nodded, and pretended he believed it, and wished he could promise that it would never, ever happen again. "Couldn't you tell someone? Please?" There were some times when he wasn't in the slightest bit ashamed to beg. Because no-one ever seemed to listen when Danny pointed out the obvious, but if Rusty would just admit it, they'd have to listen. Wouldn't they?

"Danny," Rusty smiled and shook his head slightly. "It's not that bad." And God! He wished so much that Rusty was lying then. "Lots of people have it worse. Look at Carrie Milne."

She was in Rusty's class, Danny remembered. Had been walking around with her arm in a cast for the last week or so. "She fell off a horse."

"Uh huh." Rusty was still smiling. "And I walked into a door. Several times. Ooh, or maybe I fell down the stairs. That's always a good one."

Danny ignored that. "How did you know?" he asked instead.

"She wasn't that good at hiding it. Hasn't been going on that long, I'd guess. But she told me when I asked, and I took her to Mrs. Jenkins. She's in the system now. Dunno if it'll get any better for her. But hey, a change is as good as a rest, right?"

"So why can't you – " Danny began, frustrated.

" – but that's my point," Rusty interrupted. "I don't have it that bad. At least he's never broken bones."

A feeling of nausea came close to overwhelming him. "Rus' – " There was so much that he wanted to say. So much that he wanted to make clear.

" – Danny." But he took note of the pleading in that voice, and kept quiet.

Instead he leaned his head back against the cold, rough stone behind him, and glanced back to the building opposite. The lights had gone out at some point, but he really didn't feel like pointing that out.

After a while he started talking. "It wasn't really any different from normal, you know?" He considered. "Maybe a little worse. They broke three plates during dinner, which is a new record. And Emma certainly got them a little more riled up. But really, it was just the usual stuff. Except..." He stopped, and turned. Rusty was watching him intently. "Except that while they were arguing, about me, and Mom working too much, and Dad never being home" ( _and about Rusty, but he didn't mention that_ ) "Dad said that he'd never wanted kids anyway. And Mom agreed."

If he hadn't been watching carefully, and if he didn't know Rusty so well, he would never have noticed the way his face grew perfectly still, or the way that his eyes darkened. Huh. He'd never really seen Rusty look angry before.

He continued. "And I know that they didn't really mean it. Hell, I don't think they even knew I was there. They just wanted something to hurt each other with, and I was handy." He could tell himself that. And he could believe it. Because Rusty was right; in their own way, they did care about him.

"But it hurt," Rusty stated.

"Yeah," he whispered.

Rusty reached out and put his hand on top of Danny's gently and Danny felt himself relax in a way that he didn't even know he was capable of. Because even though he'd often found, or offered comfort and reassurance in leaning against Rusty, or brushing against his arm, or touching his hand; this was the first time that he could remember Rusty initiating it. And yeah, it was all he could do not to start crying and he didn't even understand _why_.

"I just wanted them to look at my report card," he said, quietly, staring at the sky. 'I just wanted them to look at _me_ ' he carefully avoided adding, content in the knowledge that Rusty would hear it anyway. But he couldn't say it out loud, because it was pathetic and childish and at the age of twelve he should have outgrown the stupid need for his parents' attention. Because he was never going to get it.

He relaxed still further as Rusty squeezed his hand, and they sat in almost contented silence.

"You got your report card back?" Rusty asked at last. "How did you do in history? Did that project bring your mark back up?"

Danny turned and stared at him. Stared at his best friend sitting in the dark and the cold, blood on his face, genuinely concerned and interested, asking the questions that he'd been so desperate to hear from his parents and suddenly he knew exactly why he always sought Rusty out, knew exactly why being with Rusty made him feel so much better. He knew what _this_ was and more than that he knew that _this_ was going to be forever. And for some reason it was the funniest thing he'd ever known. He started to laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" Rusty demanded. And that only made him laugh harder.

Finally he managed to get control of himself enough to shake his head. "I'll tell you later," he lied, and watched Rusty sigh in frustration. "Yes, history was fine. Managed to get back up to an 'A', so if my parents ever actually ask, they'll get off my back about it for a while."

Rusty smiled proudly at him, and Danny's newfound knowledge came close to overwhelming him again. "Good," he said, simply.

It was even colder now than it had been before. Rusty obviously hadn't had time to grab a coat, so Danny took his jacket off, and pulled it over both of them. And yes, he noticed the grimace of pain as Rusty moved closer to him.

"You know, they say that these are the best days of our lives," he said, conversationally. His Uncle Harold was particularly fond of pointing that out. Apparently they had no real worries and no responsibilities - no problems.

"God help us," Rusty grinned.

"You don't believe in God." Danny pointed out.

"Then I guess we'll have to help ourselves, right?"

Danny nodded, serious where Rusty had been being facetious. Right. They would. Because this was real. And the very newness of that thought was still singing through his head. This was real and this was _love_ and this was forever. And if it was the only good thing in their life, they had to help themselves. Because no-one else was going to.

"So maybe you should get help." he suggested, for the second time that night.

Rusty frowned at him, and Danny realised that even if he had no idea what it was, Rusty knew that something had changed. "No," he said shortly. Then he leaned forwards, and hugged his knees, and the jacket fell off his shoulders, and as he moved out of the shadows, the bruises shone in the moonlight. "Anyway, it really was my fault this time."

Danny closed his eyes and suddenly felt so old. "Do we have to have the conversation again?"

"I'm not talking about what should be, Danny. I'm talking about what is," Rusty said, sounding almost calm. "I was in the living room. I was sitting on his sofa. The light's gone in my room – I had homework – so I was in the living room. But I knew he'd be home. And I knew it was his payday. I could have done the homework on the bus tomorrow. I should have known better."

"Rusty – " Danny stared at his friend, in painful disbelief. That for doing his homework? Rusty caught him staring, and put a hand up as if trying – impossibly trying – to hide the damage, and Danny looked away.

"It was my fault. Should have known better," Rusty repeated stubbornly. "I mean, he's going to hit me, if he sees me. If he's got an excuse, or he's in the mood. I know that. There's nothing I can do about that. So if I make it that easy for him, then it's my fault."

"Do you actually listen to yourself?" Danny asked, desperately.

"I'm just being practical," Rusty said, looking at him, and the expression in his eyes – desperate, hunted – hurt Danny more than his parents ever had. "I mean, maybe he shouldn't hit me - "

 _Maybe_. The word cut Danny like a knife. " - He shouldn't hit you." he said firmly, like he had a hundred times before. A thousand times. "No-one should hit you. And it's _not_ your fault and _you don't deserve it_."

He realised that at some point, somehow, without even being aware of it, he had moved and he was now crouching in front of Rusty staring him in the eye. "You don't deserve it," he repeated and wouldn't let Rusty look away until he nodded. He sighed, stood up and stretched. "One of these days I'm going to say it, and you're going to believe it," he promised. He might not be able to make their lives better in any material way – not yet – but he could do that.

"I almost do," Rusty said quietly. "I should do. It's difficult."

"I know," Danny said gently, before he reached down a hand and helped him up. "Is that place round the corner open this late? I'll buy you a burger."

"It is," Rusty raised his eyebrows. "But do you have any money?"

Ah. "Well, I'll _get_ you a burger, then," he conceded.

Rusty grinned at him. "I'll get you one," he promised.

A burger and a few hours in a warm restaurant, and then they could head back to Danny's for a few hours sleep. And tomorrow would be exactly the same, and nothing was ever solved, but they had this. And watching Rusty smiling, and with the realisation of what this really was still fresh in his mind, Danny couldn't help but feel so, so lucky.


	11. Such A Perfect Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
> 2.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 3\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 4\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 5\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 6\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 7\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 8\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 9\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
> 10\. Such a Perfect Day (Chapter 11) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

Danny woke up right on time and promptly fell asleep again. That was the first sign of what sort of day it was going to be. He was awoken several hours later by the sound of yelling coming from the hallway, and that got him out of bed fast enough. As he pulled on a t-shirt he glanced at the clock and swore. He was late. More than a little. Which meant that Rusty had probably come looking for him.

From the top of the staircase, he could see Mom leaning over Rusty, who was clutching a large envelope to his chest like it was the most important thing he'd ever held. She was still yelling. "I don't want you hanging around my house, is that understood? Normal people can't stand the sight of you, don't you get that? They take one look at you, and they can immediately see where you came from, you filthy little – "

" – shut up," Danny said quietly and his voice carried maybe just a little bit further than it ever had before.

They both turned to look at him, Mom wearing the same disappointed and contemptuous expression that he saw every day, Rusty with a look of relief and amused pride. Unsurprisingly Mom said nothing, just pursed her lips and swept off. And yes, there was a small part of Danny that was disappointed; the same small part that had once desperately sought her attention would now quite like it if she would talk to him again, just once.

Rusty held up the envelope. "From Columbia. For you. She was standing outside when I arrived, holding it and I didn't like the way she was looking at it, so I offered to take it up to you, and, she threw it at me and then, well, things got out of hand."

The surge of excitement at the sight of another letter from Columbia – his college! – was familiar, even though he knew full well it would just be yet more forms to fill out. "Come on up. I need to get dressed." he said, resisting the urge to grab the letter out of Rusty's hands and tear it open.

While Danny hunted through his wardrobe, Rusty sat down on the edge of the bed and rifled through Danny's nightstand.

Danny sighed. "You ate the M&Ms last week, remember? I haven't had a chance to replace them yet."

"I'm hungry," Rusty said with something that might have been an apology in his voice.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there this morning," Danny said quietly, once he was dressed.

"Never been stood up before," Rusty commented with a grin and Danny reflected that was probably true. Girls were queuing up to try and date Rusty, and if Danny himself didn't do quite nicely, thank you, he'd probably have been envious. "Take it your date with Veronica went well last night?"

Danny smiled. _Ohhh_ , yeah. It had. "Sorry anyway," he said seriously. Because while he'd never missed one of their meetings before, Rusty occasionally had, and they both knew why. And the memories of times when Danny had needed to track him down and patch him up must have been in Rusty's mind while he waited. Making Rusty worry was the last thing Danny had ever intended.

Rusty shook his head. "Forget about it," he said, and Danny knew that he'd been understood and forgiven on every level.

Carefully he opened the letter and was indeed confronted with yet more forms. Who'd have thought that leaving home was this difficult? He sighed and stuffed the envelope in his jacket. They could deal with it later. "Is she still out there?" he asked quietly.

After sticking his ear to the door for a few minutes, Rusty shook his head. "We're good."

Okay then. They could go out the front door. Because while he was almost certain that as long as they were together Mom would ignore them both, he couldn't be completely sure. And the risk was unacceptable.

*

They wandered into town, Danny feeling in no particular hurry, and said nothing. It was bright and still but their breath hung in the air like mist and Danny resolved to spend no more time than necessary outdoors today. He hated the cold. Shouldn't be too difficult; all they had to do today was finish the Bernie Carbo thing at the pawnshop.

"I need to swing by the bank first," Rusty said suddenly, and he should have known there'd be something else.

The branch that they were keeping under the impression that Rusty was Daniel Ocean was a little out of the way, so Danny kind of hoped that it would be something he could take care of. "Is it – "

" – No," Rusty shook his head. "My dad's bank. Power bill."

Oh. He grimaced. "Can't it wait till he gets back?"

"Third red letter. Don't want them to cut us off again." And Rusty sounded tired and there was some awkward hesitation in his voice.

"What?" Danny asked, knowing there was something more.

Rusty paused. "I need ten dollars."

Danny gave him a look that hopefully reminded him that he only ever had to mention and handed over the ten bucks. Then he frowned, because even though most of what they made went in the bank account they'd set up in Danny's name, by unspoken agreement they both kept some back and Rusty should have had enough. "You had – "

" – landlord came round – " Rusty explained.

And Rusty's dad hadn't been there for over a week now. " – he must have noticed – "

Rusty shrugged. " – he doesn't care. Just wanted the rent." And so he had paid the rent and would pay the heating bill out of his own pocket ( _Well, okay, technically other people's pockets_ ) and Danny was somehow suddenly aware of just how wrong their life really was.

"You should take the Bernie Carbo money," he said firmly.

"No," Rusty said, equally determined.

" _Rus'_ – "

" – _Danny_."

They paused outside the bank door, staring at each other, neither willing to back down.

"Look," Rusty said finally. "You agreed we need to make sure we didn't get too caught up in worrying about money to have fun."

"Rent and heating come first," he insisted.

"But they'll be paid," Rusty said patiently. "Which means that I won't need to worry about them for a while, and Dad will probably come home at some point and he'll probably remember to pay next month. You know he normally does."

Except for when he didn't, and as far as Danny could tell he'd never even notice or care that his son was paying his debts. "I don't – "

Rusty sighed. " – You want to take Veronica to the Formal, right?"

"Yes," he agreed.

"And so we set this up so you'd have money to do it properly. Just like we set up that pigeon drop last month to get me money for the field trip."

"We did that because it was fun," Danny corrected.

Rusty grinned. "True." He paused. "It can't be all about the money, Danny. That's not who we are."

"And being who we are involves taking Veronica to the Formal?" he asked, amused.

"Uh huh," Rusty grinned wider. "And while we're at it, it involves taking Alice to the movies on Friday, so I think I'd like to get some cash too."

And he'd been hoping that they wouldn't have to spend too much time outdoors. Still, the movies wouldn't cost too much. One quick lift, in all probability. "We can get one on the way back from the pawnshop," he suggested.

"I need to get some shopping as well," Rusty said casually.

In other words he needed to buy enough food and supplies to last until his Dad came back. ( _Whenever that would be. They still had a few weeks before they'd start having the conversation about what they'd do if this time he just didn't come back. And Danny was keeping his fingers crossed._ ) Okay, maybe they'd need to get a few wallets then. He nodded, and Rusty disappeared into the bank to pay the bill. Oddly, they'd probably be less suspicious of a fourteen year old than of the pair of them; Rusty was good at the whole 'My Dad just sent me in to take care of this' lie.

Rusty didn't take more than a couple of minutes, and when he reappeared he had a worryingly wide selection of complimentary pens and stickers.

"Overdo it?" Danny asked.

"Maybe a little," Rusty admitted. "I was hoping they gave out lollipops."

"Think that's the dentist," Danny mused.

"Do they?" Rusty sounded momentarily intrigued, then he frowned slightly. "I didn't include medical stuff on the budget."

"So we won't get sick," Danny answered immediately. Problem solved.

Rusty didn't think so. "We might need to think about – "

" – Insurance fraud?" Danny suggested. "Yeah, I know." He'd been turning the idea over in his mind for a while.

Rusty nodded and Danny knew that now they were both thinking about it. They'd get it figured out eventually. Pausing, Rusty pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes and stared at them in surprise.

"What?" Danny asked.

"Didn't include these on my budget either," he said in consternation.

Danny blinked. "Well – "

" – How much are you smoking these days anyway," Rusty asked, not listening to him.

"Couple of packs a wee," he shrugged. "But – "

" – And I'm on about half a pack a day." He ignored the disapproving look that Danny gave him. "So that means that it costs - "

" - Rus' -" Danny interrupted quietly.

Rusty continued, frowning. " – Actually, how much does a pack sell for these days?"

"Rusty," he said, a little louder and this time Rusty actually paid attention.

"What?"

"When's the last time you bought cigarettes?" Danny asked patiently.

"Oh. _Oh_." Rusty grinned. "Well, I should just forget the whole thing, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah," Danny said and maybe it was just a little patronising. But honestly, they never bought them. Because if they were going into people's pockets and purses anyway, why not take what they wanted? 

After that they walked the five blocks to the pawnbroker in silence, and once they were just round the corner, Rusty smoothed down his hair and turned to Danny with a frown. "How do I look?" 

Danny inspected him. Clean and neat, but dressed in shabby clothes; probably ones that he'd bought from the Goodwill in order to keep up the pretence to his Dad that all he had was what he was given. Which, Danny thought was probably straining credibility a little, as the last time that Rusty's Dad had given him money to buy clothes Rusty had been twelve. Still, Rusty knew best how to avoid any triggers and it wasn't like the clothes didn't come in handy. "Same as last week," Danny assured him. That was the point after all; consistency. 

Rusty grinned and disappeared round the corner. Danny hung back, fully aware that they couldn't be seen together, but still hating this bit. While he was waiting he smoked a cigarette and thought about the Bernie Carbo card scam. 

It was simple enough. A week ago Rusty had pawned a baseball collection that they'd scraped together by asking around at school for people's duplicate and unwanted cards. He'd spun a hard luck story and got a grand total of three dollars. Three days ago, Danny had gone into the shop and spied the collection and made a huge fuss over an 'autographed' 1975 Bernie Carbo card. ( _Rusty had spent nearly three hours painstakingly tracing the signature from Jon Oatman's prized autograph book and Danny had needed to try really hard not to react when, after barely forty five minutes, Jon had leaned over to him and whispered; "He's a bit of a geek, isn't he?_ ") But he'd insisted that this card was exactly what he needed to complete his collection, and in his best spoiled rich kid impression, had demanded that the guy sell it to him. And he'd offered first twenty, then forty, then a hundred dollars. Of course, the guy wasn't at liberty to sell, but Danny could see that it was driving him crazy and when he'd left a phone number and extracted a promise that the guy would call him if the card became available, Danny was sure that they had him. Now Rusty was going back in to get his cards back, and the guy was bound to offer him at least forty dollars. After a certain amount of haggling of course. Simple and with an elegance that pleased him. And if it worked with baseball cards, then when they got to New York they could work on doing it with things that might actually be thought to have value. 

He was in a good moment, right up until Rusty came back round the corner, holding the baseball cards and shaking his head. 

"What happened?" Danny asked, reading the defeat immediately. Also the amusement. 

"We must have found the only honest pawnbroker in the state," Rusty said cheerfully. 

Danny blinked. "You're kidding." 

Rusty produced the scrap of paper that Danny had written the fake number on. "He even gave me this. Told me that I should sell to you. Said you'd give me a hundred." 

Oh, this was ridiculous. He'd been so sure that this play would work. "Think he suspected?" 

"No," Rusty shook his head firmly. "I think we just didn't have a contingency for honesty." 

Danny pulled a face. "Well, it's not like it's that common." 

Rusty shrugged. "I say we find another pawnshop and try again." 

Brilliant, except that it would have an impact on his plans for Veronica. "But we won't be in time for – " 

" – So we spend today getting a few more wallets than we'd planned. We can deal." 

And as soon as Rusty said that, the sky opened and the rain came down in sheets. They looked at each other for a long moment and then, in complete agreement, made a run for Mabel's. 

* 

The diner was nearly deserted and as they stood in the doorway, trying not to drip too much on the floor, Mabel came running over with a couple of towels. "Come on, dry yourselves off. What are you doing out in this anyway? Didn't you listen to the forecast this morning?" 

"No," they said in unison. "Sorry." Rusty added, and Danny shook his head at him. 

"Well, come in and sit down anyway." She ushered them to their usual booth. "Now, coffee? Hot chocolate? Something to eat?" 

Coffee and a club sandwich please, Mabel," Danny said immediately. 

"Could I get the meatloaf? And a double order of fries? And a hot chocolate, and a banana milkshake, and a piece of cherry pie to follow? And a muffin?" 

They'd been coming here for seven years; Mabel didn't even blink. "Sure you can, honey. Be right back." 

As she walked away, and as rubbed the last few drips of rain out of his hair, Danny leaned back and prepared to have the conversation that they'd been putting off since that morning. 

Rusty interrupted him before he'd even opened his mouth. "It's not important." 

"It's a little important," Danny disagreed. 

"You're not responsible for what your Mom says." Rusty pointed out calmly. 

Danny stared at him intently. "My Mom's an idiot. Always has been." 

"Yep, Rusty nodded and Danny took no offence. Because it was true. 

"I hate that she said that to you," he said quietly. Mabel carried their drinks over, and, seeming to sense the tension, left them alone with only a few fond smiles. There was a long silence broken only by Danny stirring his coffee and Rusty slurping his milkshake. And Danny _knew_ he only did that to be annoying. 

Finally, Rusty looked up at him. "I get worse at ho – " 

" – Really not the point, Rus'," he interrupted 

Rusty shrugged. "Yeah. I know." 

"She won't even talk to me and she's yelling at you? What's that?" Danny went on. 

"Idiocy," Rusty answered promptly 

"Right." Danny paused and stared out of the window at the rain. "You know that she's wrong," he said, casually, hoping that was enough to get it by Rusty. 

He could feel Rusty looking at him, but he didn't – _couldn't_ – look round. There was a brief silence. "You tell me everyday," Rusty said finally and entirely offhandedly. 

Danny relaxed and Mabel brought the food over. Rusty immediately tore into it and Danny turned to look at him thoughtfully. 

After a few moments, and when half the fries were gone, Rusty noticed and looked up. "What? I'm still growing," he pointed out defensively. 

"You'd better hope so," Danny said absently, because that wasn't it. "When was the last time you ate?" 

"Yesterday," Rusty admitted after a long moment. "Lunchtime. Didn't realise that there was nothing in the fridge until after dark, and there's been a lot of stuff going on in my neighbourhood lately. Guy got stabbed. I was being careful." 

Danny closed his eyes and tried not to think ' _You were scared_ '. Because right now he himself was terrified. "Eat up," he said, finally. "You're still growing." 

Rusty grinned and they finished their meal in silence. 

After lunch they divided the forms between them to fill in. It was a little amusing to watch Rusty write in his handwriting. Because Danny recognised that he changed the way he held a pen to the way that Danny did. Even his facial expressions reflected the ones that Danny saw in the mirror. It was a little odd, but Danny was comfortable with it. Just another aspect of Rusty. 

"These ones need your mom's signature," Rusty announced, waving a thick pile. "This would be so much easier if you were going to be eighteen." 

"Forgive me for having the wrong birthday," Danny said. "Go ahead." 

Rusty scrawled Danny's mom's name across the papers. And Danny did the same, and sometimes they had to sign Danny's name instead. And not for the first time Danny felt an irrational gratitude that he didn't have to do this on his own. 

Of course, what with the power bill and the Bernie Carbo being a complete wash-out, and them not having had a chance to lift any wallets yet, lunch was most definitely on Danny. Which made it doubly awkward when he stood in front of Mabel patting his pockets frantically. 

"Left your wallet at home?" she asked, sympathetically. 

He turned to stare at Rusty. "You did have it," Rusty told him. "Remember? You gave me that money." 

Right. So he'd had it then. And it couldn't have fallen out of his pocket; he just wasn't that careless. "You didn't – " he began hopefully. Maybe this was just a practical joke. 

" – No." And Rusty wasn't lying and was sympathetic and a little worried. "Danny I don't – " 

" – Have any money, I know." Danny tried to smile reassuringly at him but it was a little difficult through the mixture of panic and embarrassment he was feeling. He turned back round. "Mabel I am so, so sorry." 

"Oh, honey, don't worry. This area's had major problems with pickpockets for years now." Yeah. They knew. "You just forget about it, and go tell the cops. Maybe someone will hand it in." 

He doubted that. "We'll pay you back," he promised. 

She smiled at both of them. "You don't need to bother. Such good boys. The two of you are my very best customers." 

Danny looked at her and thought about how she always insisted that it was perfectly normal for dessert to be free if they finished up their main courses - including their greens –and reflected that she was probably the only reason that Rusty's diet could be considered remotely healthy. And he thought about how she'd gone to the bother of making him homemade vegetable soup specially, when he'd been recovering from appendicitis and that had been what he'd been craving. And he thought about how she'd baked that cake for Rusty's ninth birthday, and Rusty had told him later it had been his first ever birthday cake. And he didn't know if she knew, but she'd never missed making a cake for either of their birthdays after that. She'd done so much for them over the years, and her place never did good business and in just a few months they'd be gone and they'd never see her again and they'd never be able to repay any of the important things. "We'll pay you back," he promised again and he let the gratitude bleed out into his voice and his smile and his eyes. 

"We will," Rusty said sincerely and Danny didn't have to look to see the same gratitude, the same thoughts and feelings. 

She seemed to get some of it at least and she smiled back at them. "If that's what you want to do." 

"Thank you, Mabel," they said together, low and sincere and for once they meant it. 

She shook her head and stared at them. "Such good boys," she whispered as they headed out the door. The rain had stopped at least. 

They stood together and looked round and Danny casually rested his elbow on Rusty's shoulder and they felt happy and said nothing. 

"So, cash?" Danny asked eventually. 

"Park?" Rusty suggested. 

Danny nodded. After the rain it wouldn't be too busy but there'd be some people there and it would be easy enough to make a couple of lifts. "Sure." he agreed. 

They started heading over. "I don't believe that you didn't notice someone stealing your wallet," Rusty said, and Danny had known that he wouldn't let that one go. 

"You checked your pockets?" he asked. After all, if it could happen to him... He was amused by the sight of Rusty quickly patting himself down, but less amused by the triumphant production of Rusty's wallet. 

"Just you," Rusty told him happily. 

"Probably figured you have nothing worth stealing," Danny said nastily but Rusty just grinned. 

"Did they get anything important?" And Danny knew he didn't mean money. 

He thought for a few minutes. "One ID. Brian Harris. I'll need a replacement. Couple of phone numbers – nothing that you don't know, but I'll need you to write them out for me again. Oh, and a condom." 

"You can replace that yourself," Rusty said immediately. 

He was about to give a snappy answer when he caught sight of a well dressed man a little way ahead of them, shaking out his umbrella. Perfect target. "Would you get a move on? You heard what Mom said," he snapped at Rusty immediately. 

"Yeah. She said you weren't to be mean to me anymore," Rusty immediately answered back and Danny had to choke back a laugh. He really wished Rusty wouldn't whine when they did this bit; it was just too distracting. 

"No, she said that we were to hurry back. Now, what, do you want to get caught in the rain again, moron?" They drew level with their target and he swerved one way and Rusty swerved the other and for a second the man must have thought that they were going to bump into him and then it was over and with any luck it would be hours before he realised he was short a wallet. 

"That's it. I'm telling Mom!" Rusty yelled immediately and started running off down the path. 

Danny swore loudly, and was amused to catch their mark giving him a sympathetic look before he took off after Rusty. 

They stopped running once they were absolutely sure that they were out of sight and headed away from the path and behind the band stand. Danny pulled out the wallet and flicked through it. Thirty dollars. Not bad. And there was the man's driver's license – his name was Joseph Marsh – and there was a picture of his family. Danny stopped for a long moment and stared at it and he remembered the other thing that was in his wallet. The thing that he would never, ever, even under pain of death admit to out loud, even to Rusty. The photos they'd had taken three years ago at the fair. Him and Rusty, sticky with cotton candy, giddy with laughter. Now those were irreplaceable. 

"The guy will have other photos," Rusty said quietly. 

Danny didn't say anything. Because _he_ didn't. 

Rusty sighed. "Pass it here." Confused Danny complied and watched as Rusty removed the cash and stuffed it in his pocket. "Get ready to do some yelling." Then he stood up and started running back to where they'd lifted the wallet. 

Danny started yelling before the man was back in sight. Just because he had no idea what Rusty was doing didn't mean that he wasn't going to back him up. "Come back here you little runt!" 

And then the man was right in front of Rusty, and Danny watched as Rusty looked back at him, and he winced as Rusty banged into the man and crashed to the ground. He ran up hastily. "Jamie! Are you all right?" He actually felt relieved as he watched Rusty pick himself up and dust himself down. 

"I'm okay," Rusty promised. 

The man – Joseph – stood rubbing his arm and both Rusty and Danny immediately turned to him. 

"I'm so sorry," Rusty said, wide eyed. 

"Please forgive my little brother sir, he's . . . an idiot." And that was said with a little more meaning than anyone else would ever notice. 

_"Yes, well." They were both frowned at. "Just try to be more careful in future."_

"I will be," Rusty promised and Danny nodded. They would be. Because this was ridiculous. 

They stood on the path until the man had strode out of sight. Rusty stared at his grazed hands ruefully. "Could have done that more carefully." 

"You shouldn't have done that at all," Danny corrected. "It was far too risky." 

"But he's got his photos back," Rusty answered. "And that's good." 

"But he got a better look at us. And as you said, he has more photos." Danny shook his head slowly. "Just don't do it again. Please." 

Rusty shrugged. Awkwardly, nervously "We can get more pictures. If you'd like." 

And the denial that was automatically on the tip of his tongue melted away in the face of Rusty's simple understanding. "Yeah. Thanks." 

He cleared his throat and they smiled at each other like summer and then Veronica came round the corner, walking hand in hand with some guy he didn't know. 

She stared at him aghast and he stared back. Now this was awkward. "Hi there," he said finally and levelly. 

"Danny," she said, and smiled uncomfortably. "This isn't how I wanted you to find out." 

"Hey, who's this punk?" the guy said. He was a few years older than Danny, with long hair and a pierced ear and expensive enough clothes that the sight of him made Danny's fingers itch. 

"Oh, um, Paul, this is Danny Ocean. Danny this is Paul Hogan." She didn't introduce Rusty. Probably a good thing. 

"Right, the high school putz you're taking to that stupid dance?" Paul said dismissively. 

It was on the tip of Danny's tongue to point out that he'd also taken her to the drive thru yesterday evening and they'd stayed for a long and marvellous hour after the movie stopped rolling, but Rusty's warning glare prevented him. Though honestly, he was pretty sure that he could take this guy if he had to. "The guy who _was_ taking her to the Formal," he corrected instead. 

Veronica flushed angrily. "Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes, Danny?" she asked sweetly. They stepped away from Rusty and Paul. "Listen, Paul's in college. He plays in a band. Lead guitar. You understand, right? I mean, I like you, but he's in college. It's completely different." 

"Fine," he assured her and paused. "We're still through though." 

She glared at him. "Oh, two weeks and you'll be begging for me to come back." 

"Doubt it," he answered flippantly. He didn't beg. Not like she meant. 

"Come on," her voice was wheedling. "You can still take me to the Formal. It'll do wonders for your reputation." 

"Not the sort of reputation I'm interested in. I'd be more worried about yours." He wasn't exactly planning on making a secret of who did the dumping. 

She seemed to take it a different ways. "You haven't told anyone that you and I..." Her eyes widened and she trailed off panicked. 

Okay, that he could reassure her on. He wasn't a complete bastard after all, even if she was. "No, no-one knows except you and me." And Rusty, but that didn't count and it would just confuse her. "And it's going to stay that way." 

"Thank you," she said in a small voice and he nodded and walked away and after a few seconds Rusty fell in step beside him. 

"No more dates with Veronica, then," he stated and Danny shook his head. 

"No chance." He paused. "Need to get a new date for the Formal." 

"Pat isn't going with anyone," Rusty said very, very casually and Danny glared at him. Because Rusty had understood full well why he'd broken up with Patricia – he liked her far too much to stay with her through everything he was doing, and he didn't like her nearly enough to change his plans – but he'd never agreed and he'd never approved. 

"No," he answered shortly. "Not going to happen." He thought for a few moments. "Think Ami would go with me if I made it clear it was just as friends?" 

Rusty shrugged. "Maybe. But she just broke up with – " 

He nodded. " – I heard. That's why I – " 

" – Well, she might be more in the mood for ice cream and bitching, that's all." And unfortunately, Rusty tended to know what he was talking about. 

"I'll ask her." Couldn't hurt, after all. He sighed. "You know." he began conversationally. "This has been an awful day." 

Rusty smiled. "If it helps, Paul and Veronica aren't going to have a good day either." Danny raised an eyebrow and Rusty held up two bulging wallets. "Oops." 

Laughing, Danny reflected that there was something to be said for always having someone prepared to go out of their way to make your day that bit better. 

If he had to have a bad day at least there was always good company. 


	12. View from the Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
> 2.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 3\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 4\. View from the Outside (Chapter 12) Rusty is 11, Danny is 14  
> 5\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 6\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 7\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 8\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 9\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 10\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
> 11\. Such a Perfect Day (Chapter 11) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

Judy had been on shift for barely an hour and until the kid was brought in it had seemed like it was going to be a dull day. Which, for paediatrics, was more than a little unusual, but she wasn't going to complain. A nice quiet time was exactly what she was looking for. She'd done a stint in the emergency room the other month, and she'd made the mistake of thinking that being a nurse in the paediatric ward would be less stressful. Yeah. Just before Christmas? She was completely crazy.

The boy – around thirteen, maybe fourteen at a pinch, dark haired, and if his face wasn't screwed up with pain she'd probably have said that he was destined to be a real heartbreaker - he was wheeled in a little after twelve, Dr. Ross and his entourage trailing in his wake. That was all perfectly normal. What was a little less than normal was the kid walking behind them, clearly trying to make sure that he wasn't noticed. A blond scrap of a thing, obviously a few years younger than the patient. Little brother, she decided, seeing the worry and the fear written on his face, and she wondered why he hadn't been told to stay downstairs in the waiting area. That would be the normal procedure. She was about to say something when he noticed her looking and shot her a wide-eyed and imploring look and something made her keep her mouth shut. That was also the first time that she noticed the dark bruise on his cheek and the swollen lip.

The bed was wheeled into place, and Judy stepped forwards to join the throng.

"Now," Dr. Ross was saying. "The important thing in a case of severe abdominal pain is to get a detailed history of symptom progression. Of course, normally in the case of a minor we'd be asking the parent, but unfortunately there is no-one here for this young man at present."

The boy in the bed mumbled something.

Dr. Ross frowned. "What was that?"

"Rusty..." the boy said, louder and blondie immediately stepped out from the curtain he'd been hiding behind and ducked past several surprised-looking doctors and made his way to stand by the head of the bed.

"Right here, Danny," he said gently and the patient – Danny – immediately, and with startling speed, reached out a hand and grabbed his wrist.

"Don't leave me," he said urgently. "Please."

"Young man, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside," Dr. Ross said firmly.

Blondie – Rusty, she corrected mentally - turned to the doctor and for a second Judy wondered if she'd been mistaken about him being the younger brother. Because his eyes looked so much older than any kid she'd ever known. "He's been feeling ill for five days now. A pain in his stomach that just kept getting worse, and he's been really tired, and he had a slight fever for the last two days. He wouldn't go see the doctor. But then he collapsed and I called an ambulance." The child's voice was entirely steady

Danny seemed to hear something else though. "Not your fault. I'm stubborn."

Rusty said nothing but Judy watched him squeeze Danny's hand tight.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid you need to wait outside," Dr. Ross sounded at something of a loss.

Danny and Rusty both glared at him. Clearly that wasn't going to happen.

"Dr. Ross, perhaps just this once, seeing as there are no other family members present, the boy could stay for the examination?" Judy found herself suggesting.

"He does seem to be keeping the patient calm," Kathleen - one of the other nurses - added, in that tone of hers that seemed to remind all doctors that she'd known them back when they were interns.

Dr. Ross sighed. "All right. Just this once."

While the doctors did their poking and prodding and exchanged glances and 'Hmmm's, Judy watched Danny and Rusty talking to each other, quietly, in unfinished and even unspoken sentences. They leapt from topic to topic without rhyme or reason that Judy could see, covering the exact chemical composition of Cap'n Crunch, something to do with Danny's art teacher and a Lamborghini and whether or not elephants had eyebrows. She exchanged a long look with Kathleen as she scribbled down something on the chart. These kids were something else.

"Now, Danny," Dr Ross said genially when they were done, looking down at the admitting forms. "I see here that your parents are out of the country, is that right?"

Danny didn't answer but Rusty nodded.

"And your Uncle is looking after you?"

"Yes," Danny managed to say. "Uncle Harold." Judy got the impression that the shot that the paramedics had given him for the pain was wearing off.

"I'm afraid that we haven't been able to reach him," Dr. Ross frowned, reading off the notes.

"He's in work. Doesn't like to be disturbed," Danny said and immediately looked as though he regretted it. Judy made a mental note.

"I see," Dr. Ross sounded vaguely disapproving. "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you a few questions."

"Sure," Danny nodded vaguely.

Dr. Ross smiled. "Now, how old are you?"

"Fourteen." Danny answered. His hand was still clutching Rusty's.

"And would you agree with the account that your brother gave of your symptoms?" the doctor continued.

The boy tensed minutely. It looked almost as if he was trying to cover some instinctive reaction. "Yeah."

Dr. Ross seemed to see it too and frowned. "Nothing else to add?"

"No. Rusty knows what he's talking about." He turned and smiled softly at the younger boy.

"I see," Dr. Ross raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Have you ever been in hospital before?"

Danny closed his eyes and shook his head, but he didn't seem to have heard.

"Danny, I know it hurts, but you need to help me to help you." Judy could hear the sympathy in the doctor's voice, but it didn't really help.

Rusty stepped forwards and raised his head. "He's never been in hospital before, he's not on any medication, no known allergies, no major illnesses and he's had all his vaccinations. Oh, and no family history of anything in particular. Anything else?"

Well. That was the most comprehensive medical history she'd ever heard from an eleven year old.

"Are you certain of all of that?" Dr. Ross asked with a slight hint of startled incredulity in his voice.

"Yes," Rusty said simply.

"Okay, then," Dr. Ross nodded briskly. "Danny, we think that you have appendicitis. We're going to take you into surgery tomorrow morning, provided we get your uncle's consent. In the meantime, try and get some rest."

Danny nodded weakly and the doctor swept off.

The boys exchanged glances. Rusty spoke first. "Did he seem a little – "

" – yeah."

"Are you – "

" – slightly. Don't – "

" – Not as long as you want me here."

Judy exchanged another incredulous look with Kathleen. Oh, boy. The next few days were going to be interesting.

*

The first time she chased Rusty out of the ward and back to the waiting area, Judy was more amused than anything else. The boy had hidden himself well, standing perfectly still against the wall, the curtain and the shadow concealing him. If Danny hadn't happened to half wake up as she was passing and immediately, and seemingly instinctively, turn to smile at something she couldn't see she'd probably never have known.

"He asked me to stay," Rusty said quietly, looking up at her desperately.

"I'm sorry. It's hospital policy," she said, surprised to find that she really was sorry.

He didn't say anything else and she asked the nurse on the desk to keep an eye on him.

The second time she was less amused. It seemed as though the ward staff were no match for a determined eleven year old. The best she could say was that he didn't seem to have any intention of actually waking Danny, in fact he seemed to be content to just stand and watch over him and she suspected that he'd been there for quite a while before she'd noticed. But still, rules were rules and she walked him back to the waiting area.

"He asked me to stay," he repeated but this time he didn't seem to expect it to make any difference.

"Your brother is going to be just fine," she promised, hoping that a healthy dose of reassurance might do the trick.

He just looked at her for a long moment before he walked over to one of the benches and sat with his legs pulled up to his chest.

The third time he was easier to spot. He was sitting with his back to the wall and he was plainly in the process of dozing off.

She walked up to him. "Hey," she said quietly, being careful not to wake Danny.

To her surprise Rusty jumped violently before he seemed to focus on her. He gave a resigned sigh. "I'm going, I'm going."

"No." She held up her hands. "It's visiting hours now. You can stay. You've got two hours."

He smiled at her, suddenly and sweetly and she found herself smiling back. "Thank you," he said, sincerely.

"Here." She dragged a chair over for him. "You might as well get comfortable."

He smiled at her again. "Thank you," he repeated and turned to watch Danny sleep.

"He really is going to be all right," she told him, after a moment.

"You said." His voice was distant.

"The two of you must be very close," she tried.

"Uh huh." He nodded but didn't look round.

"Oh," she suddenly remembered. "We managed to reach your uncle."

That got a reaction; she could see him suddenly tense. "Is he here?"

"Not yet, apparently he's tied up in a meeting and won't be able to get here for at least an hour." She hadn't been that impressed when she'd heard that news, but, well, it was none of her business.

Rusty relaxed and she found herself wondering. "What happened to you?" she asked, trying to make it seem casual.

Then he did turn to look at her, an expression of sheer bafflement on his face. "Huh?"

"Your face." She put a hand up to her own face and indicated the cheek and the lip.

"Oh!" his hand flew up and he rubbed at the bruise ruefully. He grinned. "Danny was trying to show me how to do wheelies," he explained. "It was something less than successful."

Judy relaxed. Because when he'd seemed so worried about his uncle showing up she'd been worried that they might be looking at an abuse case, but she prided herself on her ability to read people and she was sure that no child could lie that well. "You fell off?" she asked, sympathetically.

He shook his head. "Steered straight into a wall and took a header over the handlebars."

She winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"I'll get the hang of it," he smiled, and then turned back to Danny. "Just need a few more lessons."

Nodding she left him to it and went off to answer Brucie's mother buzzing for the third time in fifteen minutes.

*

The uncle finally arrived with twenty minutes left of visiting time and immediately demanded to see whoever was in charge. It took Dr. Ross ten minutes to convince him that Danny was in the best possible hands and that the hospital staff knew what they were doing. Judy was slightly less than impressed with the man.

When she escorted him onto the ward Danny was awake but Rusty had vanished altogether.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise. She would have put money on needing to chase Rusty out again once visiting hours were over.

The uncle looked at her irritably. "What?"

"Sorry," she smiled apologetically. "I was just surprised to see your other nephew was gone."

He frowned. "I only have one nephew."

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Danny shaking his head frantically and she found herself contrasting the child – whoever he was – who wouldn't leave his side and the uncle who wouldn't even leave work early to see his hospitalised nephew. She bit her lip. "I must have been mistaken. Sorry."

She made to return to her duties and as she left she heard him address his nephew. "Well, Daniel, quite a pickle you've landed yourself in. I'll talk to the people in charge; see about getting you a private room. I must say, I don't care for this at all. Feels like a public spectacle."

Well, a private room would only make it harder for them to keep Rusty out. She shrugged to herself. Good.

*

As Judy started her shift the next day she made a point of talking to Susan who'd been on at night. "So, anything interesting happen?"

"Well, we've got a ghost," Susan said cheerfully.

"What?" Judy blinked.

Susan nodded seriously. "Uh huh. No kidding. Blond kid, about that high... "

Ah. Rusty. She sighed. "...bruises on his face, right?"

"Yeah," Susan grinned. "You saw him?"

"Sure I did," she nodded in frustration. "Must have chased him off the ward three times yesterday."

"Same last night. Well, we kind of stopped after a while. I mean, the other one seemed to sleep much better when he was there, and he wasn't disturbing anyone or doing any harm." 

She raised an eyebrow. "He smiled at you, huh?"

Susan had the grace to look embarrassed. "Yeah. Cute kid."

"A real little charmer," she agreed. "Have you seen the uncle?"

"No. Talked to him on the phone this morning though. Apparently he's been in touch with the parents and they're not cutting their holiday short."

Her eyes widened. "You're kidding."

"Wish I was," Susan sighed and clucked her tongue.

"Poor kid." It wasn't right, but there was nothing they could do about it. As long as there was a relative there, and the boy was being taken care of – which he fairly clearly was – there was no real case to answer.

"Yeah. They took him down to surgery half an hour ago, so we finally managed to persuade his friend to go to the waiting area." She paused thoughtfully. "I only hope he's called his parents at some point. They must be going out of their minds."

"Guess it's only a matter of time before someone calls the social worker." They'd need to find out who he was and send him home. Sad story all round.

*

It wasn't until her break that Judy saw Rusty again. She took advantage of her time to step out onto the balcony for a quick cigarette and was shocked to see that not only was Rusty smoking, but there was a tidy pile of cigarette ends in front of him.

"That's very bad for you," she said immediately and disapprovingly.

He looked at the cigarette in her hand and said nothing.

She flushed. "That's different, I'm old enough."

Rusty sighed and again she was struck by how old he seemed. "It's either this or I'm asking the doctor every five minutes if he's heard anything. And all he'll say is that I'm not a relative. And I already know that."

She was both sympathetic and helpless. "I'm sorry. It's – "

" – Hospital policy," he cut her off. "Yeah. I know." He reached into his pocket, pulled out another cigarette and lit it.

"You're far too young to be smoking." She couldn't help it; he was. He really, really was.

"I know that too." He grinned at her and suddenly looked like a kid again. A cute, charming little kid.

"Well, aren't you just a know-it-all," she smiled.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. When it annoys Danny."

"You're not his brother," she stated.

He took a long drag on his cigarette. "I never actually said I was."

"You never denied it," she pointed out.

"No. Well. I wanted to stay for as long as possible." He kept looking over her shoulder, back into the ward and she realised that he was waiting for Danny to be brought back.

"We shouldn't be letting you stay here at all," she said quietly.

He didn't look at her. "Gonna call security? Because I've seen your security guards and I think I can outrun them."

"You can't stay here forever," she pointed out with a wry smile.

"He asked me to stay. He wanted me to stay." His voice was low and insistent and utterly unchildlike.

"Do you always do what he wants?" she asked, amused.

"If I can? Yes," he said, entirely unexpectedly.

She laughed ironically. "And would you jump off a bridge if he wanted you to?"

He grinned. "We did that. Last month."

And there was nothing she could really say to that. Except: "He will be all right."

"Yes," Rusty said quietly but the hand that was holding the cigarette was shaking and for a moment she thought he was going to cry. She almost wished that he would; she knew how to comfort crying children. Hesitantly she reached out to put an arm over his shoulder but he flinched out of the way, dodged her arm, stubbed out his cigarette and was through the door before she even had a chance of registering what was going on.

She stared after him and resolved to track down the hospital social worker as soon as her break was done.

*

The fourth time that she chased Rusty out of Danny's room coincided with her next break. Danny had been returned from surgery and Rusty had immediately gone to his room, seemingly entirely unbothered that he was unconscious and would remain that way for the next several hours.

"Come down to the canteen with me," she invited. "You know you're not going to be able to sneak back in for at least another twenty minutes; you might as well get some hot food in you."

He smiled at her. "So you admit you can't keep me out?"

She shook her head in mock sorrow. "Well, we've had no luck so far. You're a good friend."

The smile faded. "Maybe."

"Want to talk about it?" she offered gently "Come on, I'll buy you dinner."

"Nah," He shook his head, bright again. "Danny says that the gentleman always pays."

"Then Danny's been watching too many movies," she said, firmly.

He followed her happily enough and picked out a bowl of pasta and some green jello with rather more enthusiasm than the hospital canteen usually warranted. And to her complete amusement he did insist on paying. She let him, tolerant of male pride at any age.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently, when they were seated.

He stared down at his jello. "I was scared."

She must have looked puzzled.

"When Danny collapsed," he explained. "I was terrified."

"Of course you were. Anyone would be," she reassured him. Because that was normal.

He didn't seem to hear her. "I should have made him go to the doctor's earlier. If I had, would he be better now?"

She shook her head. "We'd have had to operate anyway. It didn't make a difference. And remember? He said it was his choice not to go."

"He doesn't always do what's best for him," he muttered and she was almost certain that he wasn't talking about this.

She carried on as though she hadn't heard. "And you called the ambulance, remember? And you told Dr. Ross everything you knew. You did everything right. You're a good friend to him."

He shook his head uncertainly and she wasn't totally certain that he was fully aware that he was talking to her. "I was frightened. I'm frightened of so many things."

She paused cautiously. "Like what?"

"So many things," he repeated, and frowned to himself.

She was more than a little relieved to see Michael, the social worker approaching. She could leave it all in better hands now.

"Rusty, this is Michael. He'd like to chat to you for a while. Now, I'll leave you two to get better acquainted." As she stood up she couldn't help but notice the look of betrayal in Rusty's eyes.

*

Judy didn't see Rusty for the rest of that day, and Michael assured her that he'd convinced the child to call his parents and get collected. Apparently there was no real trouble at home; the boy was just concerned about his friend. Michael figured that that kind of childhood loyalty was harmless and, well, just plain cute. So she was able to take her day off with a completely clear conscience. Which made it even more painful when she came back to hear that Rusty had been back less than twenty minutes after Michael told her that he'd gone home.

"Just appeared back in that room like magic," Susan told her with a certain amount of awed glee in her voice. "And we haven't been able to shift him for any length of time since."

"This is just ridiculous," she moaned. "Can't you call his parents?"

"Maybe. If we knew his name. But he won't say, and neither will Danny. And Danny still seems to do better when he's there."

"You've not been trying too hard, have you?" she deduced.

"He's a cute kid, and he's not doing any harm," Susan shrugged. "And Danny's uncle only drops by for about ten minutes a day. Kid's bored out of his mind. Why shouldn't we let his friend stay?"

Just because she couldn't exactly give a reason didn't mean that it wasn't a bad idea.

*

When she went into Danny's room for the first time, it was visiting hours and she hung in the doorway to watch Rusty reading to Danny – who looked pale and drawn from pain, but still a hundred times better than he had done - from what looked like a Harlequin paperback.

"As the dread pirate captain clasped her to his breast – "

Danny frowned and interrupted. " – wait _his_ breast?"

Rusty paused and read back. "That's what it says."

"Huh." Danny's frown deepened. "And breast? Not breasts?"

"We haven't got to that bit yet." Rusty rolled his eyes and looked supremely bored. "Give it time."

"It'll be Christmas before you get to the good stuff," Danny grumbled.

"What good stuff?" Rusty muttered.

Danny looked thoughtful. "Think I'll still be here for Christmas?" he asked, as though being in hospital at Christmas would be the best gift ever.

"Maybe," Rusty said hopefully before continuing to read. "As the dread pirate captain clasped her to his breast she felt a strange feeling within her chest. As though a thousand caged butterflies were begging to be set free."

"Butterflies," Danny said flatly.

"Yep," Rusty agreed.

Danny sighed. "Couldn't you have found something else to read?"

"It's this or a magazine on fly fishing," Rusty said with a shrug.

Danny sighed deeper. "Carry on."

Choking back a laugh, Judy stepped into the room. The two looks that were immediately turned on her were far from friendly.

"I just need to check your vitals," she said, glancing over the chart. Everything looked good; Danny was recovering nicely.

"You called social services," Danny said, glaring at her.

Oh, boy. "I had to."

"No you didn't," Rusty frowned. "You're not calling them now just because it's visiting hours. So if I'm allowed to be here now, why does it matter that I'm here the rest of the time?"

"You can't just stay here," she pointed out.

"He's not staying tonight," Danny said. "So there's no more problem, right?"

Rusty turned to glare at Danny. Danny glared back. There was something going on that Judy didn't think she had a hope of following and she really didn't want to get between it.

Finally Rusty sighed, and looked away. "Are you sure?" he mumbled.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Danny said easily. "People stay overnight in hospitals all the time, without someone there to hold their hand."

"I don't hold your hand," Rusty said flatly, and Judy blinked because she'd seen him do exactly that on several occasions.

"Figure of speech." Danny waved a hand dismissively. "But the point is, there's no problem, right?"

She nodded slowly. "No, in that case everything's fine."

"Good." Danny smiled broadly and nodded at the chart. "So how am I doing?"

"You're doing well. How do you feel?" she asked.

"Not too bad," he said. Rusty made a disbelieving noise. "What?" Danny asked with a slight smile.

Rusty shook his head. "They took a piece of you out. There's a piece of your body in a jar somewhere. How can that possibly be not too bad?"

Biting her lip, Judy backed out of the room and left them to it.

*

The rest of that day passed in a blur, filled with crying children unwilling to be in hospital two days before Christmas. Still, she made a point of checking in with Danny a couple more times. And she didn't see Rusty once, which was good. But when she got in the next morning, she was immediately told that Rusty had spent the night, same as normal. And there was a 'normal' now. And they'd lied to her.

She stormed into Danny's room and was brought up short by the sight of Dr. Ross sitting talking to him. And Rusty was there too, and apparently the doctor saw no problem with this.

"And so it looks like you'll be going home today, young man. That's good news, isn't it? Just in time for Christmas. You must be looking forward to being back with your parents." He'd forgotten, she could tell. Stupid, patronising fool.

Danny looked at the floor. "They're still on this trip, sir. Last minute attempt to save their marriage."

And she might not know them that well, but she just knew that he'd said that in order to discomfit Dr. Ross. And by the looks of things it had worked nicely. He looked positively mortified. "Oh. Well. I'm sure that they're flying home, since you're ill." She shook her head frantically at him and his eyes widened. "Oh. Well. Christmas, anyway. That will be nice, right?"

"Sure." Danny sounded slightly glum. The doctor left, probably in search of easier patients.

"You lied to me," she said, staring at Rusty, as soon as he was gone.

"Only a little bit," he answered, with an amused smile.

"This isn't a laughing matter," she said with a frown.

"We're going to be out of your hair today, and you'll never see us again," Danny pointed out.

She paused for a long moment. "Well, on the basis that you'll never see me again, and to satisfy my curiosity, why don't you want to go home for Christmas like everyone else round here?"

They exchanged a long glance. "Because I'll be at home being miserable with my uncle and Rusty gets to spend the day with his dad," Danny said bluntly.

Right. She shook her head. "Christmas should be for family." she told them gently. Childhood friendships. They'd learn soon enough.

"Right." Rusty smiled crookedly.

Danny sighed and turned to him. "My uncle will be coming to pick me up soon. You'd better disappear."

"Okay." Rusty nodded and then hesitated. She got the impression that they wanted her to leave, but this time she was determined that she would wait to be sure that he wasn't hanging around. "I won't see you, so...Happy Christmas, Danny."

"Happy Christmas, Rus'," Danny smiled, a little sadly. "And thanks. For staying. Must have been difficult."

Rusty grinned. "It was easy."

And she looked at the yellowing bruises on his face and she was almost amused that he could lie so well.


	13. In the Beginning Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time they met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline:
> 
> 1\. In the Beginning Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 13 &14) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9  
> 2\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
> 3.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 4\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 5\. View from the Outside (Chapter 12) Rusty is 11, Danny is 14  
> 6\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 7\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 8\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 9\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 10\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 11\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
> 12\. Such a Perfect Day (Chapter 11) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

Danny walked out of the principal's office. Well, that had wasted five minutes of morning recess. Wasn't his fault that Mrs O'Donnell hadn't seen the funny side. She reminded him of his first second grade teacher and he'd worked a little pre-emptive revenge. So he'd super-glued her mug to her desk. It wasn't like she was supposed to be drinking coffee during class anyway. Actually, he'd bet it wasn't coffee in there at all. And whatever Principal Mallie said he wasn't in the habit of calling his teachers moronic harlots. He wasn't even sure what it meant, it was just something he'd heard on a late night movie.

He stepped out onto the playground and Freddy, Doug and Buzz crowded round him. He'd been hanging out with them for the last three days. They seemed nice enough, just like three kids he'd known back in his old school, but there was no point in him getting too close. His parents would undoubtedly move him to a new school as soon as they got tired of the string of failing grades, calls to the principal's office and whatever else he decided to get into. The school was always to blame. It had happened five times in the last three years and Danny was past the point of even trying to make real friends. But these guys would do nicely to kill time with.

"What did Mallie say?" Doug demanded. It sounded like he was scared of Mallie and Danny couldn't imagine why. He was pretty sure that she was all bark and no bite, just like the principal at his last school but one.

"She said she was going to call my parents." The other boys' eyes widened. He shrugged. He didn't care that much; he doubted they'd be anymore interested than they were last week. They'd yell at him for a bit, if they happened to think of it, and then he'd be grounded until they forgot. Two days, on average.

"You're pretty cool, Danny," Freddy said admiringly. "Wanna join my gang?"

He'd been given that offer a few times before. At no time had the gang ever been more than a small group of boys who wanted to be rebels and who wrote swearwords on the walls. "Sure. Why not?"

They grinned and exchanged glances. "You want in you need to get through our initiation."

He'd heard that before too. But why not? It wasn't like he had anything better planned. "Sure. What is it?"

They looked around them and then leaned in close to him. "You need to go and bring us back someone's lunch."

"You mean steal it?" Danny asked. Sounded pretty stupid to him.

"Yeah!" Buzz nodded enthusiastically. "We've all done it."

"Right." He sighed and walked away from them. If this was what he had to do in order to hang out with them then he might as well get it over with. This was no worse than anything else he'd done. So he'd take some whinging brat's sandwich. He definitely wasn't going to hurt anyone; he'd just scare them into giving it up.

He looked round the playground thoughtfully. Had to be a younger kid, obviously. He doubted he'd look intimidating to anyone his own age. Had to be a boy – he wasn't about to try and strong-arm a girl – someone on his own, shy, small and easily frightened. He caught sight of the little blond kid standing on the edge of the playground leaning against the wall. He'd do. Looked like he'd fit the bill perfectly.

Well, he might as well get on with it. He marched up to the kid who, surprisingly, turned his head and watched Danny walk up to him. Well, not really walk. March. Swagger. Like Clint Eastwood. And he towered over the kid, stared down at him for a long moment. The kid didn't look away. Didn't blink. He just looked at Danny, thoughtful and amused, in a way that was completely outside Danny's experience.

"Give me your lunch," Danny said, and in his own ears his voice sounded quietly menacing.

But the kid _grinned_. He actually grinned, like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Don't have any," he said, simply.

Danny blinked and the grin and the look in the kid's eyes seemed to encompass the world. There was something . . . He'd never met any kid like this before. No adult either, come to that. And even though he'd never regret it – not for a second, not for the rest of his life – he'd also never be able to explain why the next thing he said was, "Oh. Want some of mine?"

The kid frowned at him and Danny could see the surprise on his face. There was a small part of him that enjoyed seeing the slight dent in the boy's cool exterior. "Why?"

Good question. Danny concentrated on looking charming. Because this was important to him even if he didn't understand why. He smiled, that smile that almost always got him out of trouble and into whatever he wanted. "I've forgotten my lunch before. Everyone has. You can pay me back sometime, if you want." He paused and the kid regarded him steadily. "I'd do this for anyone; no big deal."

The kid smiled slightly. "Liar."

Danny nodded. "Fair enough." He looked the kid straight in the eye. "I don't know why. Be here at lunchtime and we'll share."

The kid looked at him for a long moment and then grinned again, seeming to like whatever he saw. "Okay then."

The bell rang and they both headed off to class. Danny noticed that the kid was limping painfully and wondered why.

*

Robert walked slowly round to where the boy had said to meet him and tried not to wince with every time he put weight on his bad ankle. He'd blown off Brady and Cameron to come round here. Not that he exactly regretted that. He couldn't play tag with them today and he hated having to watch them eat. Wasn't the first time that he'd had to duck out of the house without his lunch. That had happened before, and if he added the number of times that he'd slept in too late to make up a lunch in the first place, well, it was a few times a month, he'd guess. And Brady especially didn't seem to understand. Brady placed almost as much importance on food as he himself did, and he'd told Miss Harris that Robert didn't have any lunch one time, and she'd never looked at him the same after that. The same look that he saw on his neighbours' faces sometimes and he'd never understood it. What's more she must have called his parents and told them she knew how bad he was and it had been three days before he'd been able to go back to school.

He was hungry and he tried to tell himself that the boy wasn't going to be there, and even if he was it'd probably just be so he could beat him up and take what he did have. Trouble was, he didn't believe himself. Because that's what he'd been expecting as soon as he'd said he didn't have anything for the boy, and it hadn't happened. There was something about the boy that was different from everything Robert had ever known. Though he was still a little puzzled why the boy would be trying to steal food if he had some of his own, but, well, he supposed he could understand about wanting to store stuff for later.

The boy was standing there, holding a shiny metal lunchbox. He looked up and smiled at Robert, and he found himself smiling back immediately.

"So what do you want?" the boy asked, sitting down on the step and opening the box happily. Robert, gingerly sitting on the step below, caught sight of the sandwich and the chips and the crackers and the candy bar and he felt his mouth watering.

"Whatever you don't, I guess." He didn't especially mind. He just wanted something.

The boy nodded. "We'll split it all then," he said, and passed Robert half the sandwich. He also politely pretended that he didn't notice Robert staring.

Once he'd satisfied himself that the boy was for real he tore hungrily into the sandwich, watching the boy all the time, because sometimes good things happened just so they could be stolen away, and the boy would be perfectly within his rights to take the sandwich back. Still. Fresh bread. Real butter. Thick pieces of chicken – actual chicken, not just fat or gristle. And layers of mayonnaise and vegetables that were crunchy and green instead of soggy and brown. He finished his half before the boy had even managed two bites and closed his eyes; this was as good as it got. Until the boy, with an unidentifiable look of pain in his eyes, passed over half the bag of chips and half the crackers.

It wasn't that he ever went hungry. Not exactly. Well, apart from those few days in the summer, after Mom had...but he didn't much like thinking about that. But Mom made sure that there was almost always food in the cupboards, and the few times that there weren't, well, he had ways of getting money now. He ate okay. He _did_ okay.

Once the chips and the crackers were gone, the boy picked up the apple and regarded it for a second before he did some strange twisty thing with his hands that had Robert 'Oooh' in amazement, and split the apple right in two.

"I don't think I like apples," he said apologetically as the half fruit was thrust silently at him.

The boy frowned first at them and then at the fruit in his hand. "Neither do I," he said thoughtfully, and he put both halves together and threw them at the garbage can with a mischievous smile. Robert grinned back.

They split the carton of juice between them. (Orange and mango, and he'd never tasted anything like it before. He actually had to check the label to see what it was.) And the silence between them was like nothing Robert had ever known before. It felt like it did sometimes late at night, when he knew his parents were asleep and wouldn't be getting up again and he could sit on the window ledge, look up at the sky, his legs dangling out of the window, and breathe freely. He didn't know if there were words for this but he thought that 'happy' might come kind of close.

When the juice was finished the boy pushed the candy bar towards him. "Take it. All of it."

He shook his head. "Nah." Splitting was one thing. This was different.

"I don't want it," the boy insisted and again he could hear the lie. Besides, it was a Snickers bar. Nuts and chocolate and caramel and nougat. Who wouldn't want it?

"We can split it if you want," he offered. "But – "

" – It's yours," the boy interrupted stubbornly.

Robert sighed and picked up the chocolate. Then he broke it in two and passed half back to the boy. "If it's mine then I want to share it."

The boy looked startled and then smiled slowly at him. "Okay then."

It was the best chocolate Robert ever tasted.

*

The fact that he hadn't handed any homework in for a few days was maybe his fault. He just hadn't felt like it. Wasn't as though he didn't understand it. They repeated all the same things over and over again and Danny just found it so boring. So he didn't do it. No big deal. Except Mallie hadn't seen it that way and he'd had to sit through a lecture on not squandering his talents – and he wasn't exactly sure what that meant – and personal responsibility – and he wasn't exactly sure that meant anything at all. But somehow they'd got from him not doing his homework to him spending an hour a week helping less able kids with reading. He'd agreed. It was an hour out of class after all, and his parents had seemed enthusiastic in a distracted sort of way. Maybe if he did this they'd be proud of him.

He looked round the room with a frown. He was probably the only one of the student volunteers who wasn't a complete geek. He was also the only one sitting on his own. The rest of them were sitting with their assigned partners, trying to explain the mysteries of 'Jack and Jill' to the disinterested kids. Danny had the feeling that this was going to be a very long hour.

Mrs. Richards walked up to him, beaming. "Daniel. I'm so happy to see you volunteering your time like this."

He smiled at her. No point in being difficult. Not right now. "That's quite all right."

She stepped aside and for the first time he noticed that someone was standing behind her. The little blond kid he'd shared his lunch with the other day.

"Daniel Ocean, this is Robert Ryan." Danny winced at the use of his full name and was surprised to notice that the kid – Robert – frowned at his own name. Interesting. Mrs. Richards went on, seemingly not even noticing the way they were staring at each other. "I'll leave you to get acquainted, shall I? Oh, and Daniel? This is Robert's reading book." Danny was handed a battered copy of 'The Adventures of Terry the Rabbit'. Ouch.

"Thanks." He waited until Robert had sat down and Mrs. Richards had walked away. "So."

"Yeah," Robert agreed.

"It's Danny, by the way. Not Daniel." He waited expectantly but Robert just nodded and didn't offer any nickname of his own.

There was a brief silence. Robert was staring at him. "How come you're here?"

Danny grinned slightly. "Apparently spending time with people 'less intellectually able' will keep me on the straight and narrow."

"Oh." Robert looked down.

"And that's not you," Danny continued, frowning slightly. "That's really not you. So what are you doing here?" He'd seen Robert reading the ingredients on the juice. This didn't make sense.

"They don't know if I can read," Robert said simply.

Danny blinked. "They don't know . . . ?" he echoed.

Robert shrugged and looked away.

Danny stared at him. "Can you or can't you?"

Robert's lips twitched slightly but he still wouldn't look at Danny.

"I saw you reading the juice box from lunch," Danny told him, doubting himself even as he spoke. He supposed it was possible that he'd been mistaken. That Robert had just been looking at the pictures or something.

Danny was looking carefully and even then he nearly missed the slight movement of shoulders, the tiny jump of surprise. Not mistaken then. He pursed his lips and pushed the book across the table.

Robert made no attempt to open it. He simply leaned back in his chair and recited. "Terry was a very little rabbit. He wanted a carrot. Farmer Tim had carrots. Terry went to Farmer Tim. He said 'I want a carrot'. Farmer Tim said 'No.' Terry went home. Terry – "

" – That's enough," Danny interrupted, amused. He pulled the book towards him and flicked through the pages. Word perfect. "And that's what you do when they ask you to read?"

Robert nodded and watched him.

Danny bit his lip and didn't ask. Instead he reached into his bag and pulled out his own reading book. "Try this."

Unsurprisingly Robert made no attempt to take it.

"Reading is important," Danny said gently.

They stared at each other for a long, long moment. Danny wouldn't let Robert look away. Because there were lots of things that were important and Danny didn't understand a fraction of them.

Robert suddenly smiled at him. "Okay." He opened the book. "You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer' Now the way that book winds up is this: Tom and me found the money that the robbers hid in the cave and it made us rich. We got six thousand dollars ape . . . appy . . apeak . . . "

"Apiece," Danny offered. "It means 'each'." He looked at Robert thoughtfully. "You can read."

"Uh huh." Robert stared down at the book.

"Better than a lot of the kids in my class," Danny went on. He noticed the quick flash of smile but said nothing. "Now," he leaned forwards. "Why?" he asked, very quietly.

Robert rubbed at the side of his mouth awkwardly. "I like reading," he said softly.

"So?" Danny didn't especially care for books himself, but he didn't see anything wrong with reading.

"Only sissies like to read. And sissies deserve what they get." Robert wouldn't look at him and Danny didn't understand what he meant.

"If you carry on like this they'll keep sending letters home," he warned. "They'll want to talk to your parents all the time. They'll hold you back a grade."

Robert looked at him. "You think so?" he asked seriously.

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah."

"Dad didn't like it when Mrs. Richards called round to say I needed help." As Danny watched Robert's eyes got cloudy and for the first time in a while Danny remembered that the other boy was younger than him. "He got angry." He shook himself. "How do you know how smart to be?" he asked, and Danny could hear the bewilderment in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Danny asked carefully.

"Being dumb is bad. Being too clever is very bad. How do you know what's right?"

Danny looked at him, so young and confused, and had to resist the inexplicable urge to reach out and clasp his hand. And he wanted to say that Robert should be what he really was but his eyes were far away again and Danny knew it would somehow be wrong. "I don't know," he said instead. "I'm sorry."

Robert smiled. "Don't be sorry."

"We don't need to tell them you can read," Danny proposed. "Not right away. You get an hour out of class and I get an hour out of class. It's all good." And spending time with Robert was somehow comfortable.

Robert nodded. "You tried to steal my lunch," he remarked, out of nowhere.

Well, that was awkward. "I'm sorry..." he began.

"Don't be sorry." Robert shook his head. "It's just that...can you keep a secret?" Before he even had a chance to say anything Robert was smiling. "You can keep a secret. It's just that it's better to steal from adults. If you need to."

Danny blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if you steal someone's cupcake you have a cupcake. And the person you took it from can come along and say 'That's my cupcake.' Unless you've eaten it. But they can recognise it. But adults have money and if you steal that they can't recognise it again and you can buy lots of cupcakes."

"You steal money from adults?" Danny hissed.

Robert nodded slowly.

He couldn't help it. Because this wasn't anything normal, this was out of everything he'd ever known and he had to know more. "Show me," he said, very, very quietly. "Please."

*

He smiled and explained again, in a whisper. "Don't look them in the face. Don't tiptoe or crouch or anything. Just kind of walk past and move quick, like you're going somewhere." He'd already demonstrated the technique, on a woman whose purse had been hanging open. It had been easy pickings but Danny had still looked at him like he was something special. Now they were looking at another possibility; a man with his coat hanging over his arm, the bulge in the pocket showing where his wallet was and Danny wanted a shot.

"Okay." Danny nodded seriously and licked his lips.

"You'll be fine," he said. Because he was sure of it. Danny grinned at him and walked off, doing exactly like he'd said. And Robert was watching and no-one else noticed when Danny's hand slipped inside the man's coat but he did see a few heads turn when Danny ran instead of walked back to their hiding spot. Not that it mattered; no-one moved to stop him, and Robert had used to make that mistake all the time.

"Got it," Danny panted, his eyes wide.

"What did you get?" he asked and Danny opened up the wallet filled with green notes. "Nice."

Danny looked excited and at the same time slightly disturbed. "That's more than was in yours."

He shrugged. "Different people carry different money."

"We should split it even," Danny said firmly.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why, but he stopped himself because Danny was right. He wasn't exactly sure why, but Danny was right. "Okay. Throw the wallet away over there."

Danny fingered the red leather. "It's nice though."

"Yeah but wallets are the same as cupcakes. Just keep the cash," Robert advised and Danny nodded slowly and stuck the wallet on the same ledge on which he'd left the one from earlier.

It took them a while to count out the money. First couple of times they got different totals and had to start again. They got the hang of it eventually and Robert had rarely felt so rich.

"That was fun!" Danny exclaimed and he had to stop and consider, because yes it was. Before it had just been something he did, for when he was hungry but Danny had turned it into something more. "Can we do it again?"

He frowned. "It's getting dark," he pointed out. It would be more difficult when they couldn't see.

But Danny was already grinning and shaking his head. "I didn't mean now. I meant can we do this another day as well?"

"Sure." He didn't even hesitate.

"Like Saturday?" Danny suggested eagerly.

"Saturday," he agreed.

Danny carried on chattering and Robert remembered that he hadn't been nearly so excited the first time he'd stolen a wallet. Mind you at that time it had seemed a straightforward choice between stealing and starving to death. "What are we going to do now? Do you need to get home? My parents would never let me stay out this late when I was your age."

"They don't really care," he said and was surprised to hear his voice sound so sad.

"I know the feeling," Danny said after a moment and he could hear the truth in that.

He traced a pattern in the dirt with his toe and surprised himself again by admitting "I don't want to go home."

Danny watched him. " . . . I know that feeling too. Do they yell?"

"Sometimes." The yelling was scary. And when his dad was listing all the ways he was bad, screaming at the top of his voice and his mom was just watching, sometimes Robert just wished that he'd get on with the punishment so that it would all be over.

"Mine yell," Danny said quietly and Robert nodded unsurprised, because there was something in Danny that was the same as him, and maybe that meant that Danny was bad too. "Promise not to laugh?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Robert said seriously.

Danny looked down at the scuffed earth. "Sometimes, late at night, when they're yelling I take my blankets and my pillows and I go and sleep in my bathroom. In the tub."

That sounded like a good hiding place. Sometimes Robert hid under the bed, but they always found him. "Does it help?"

"I don't hear so much," Danny shrugged and then abruptly looked up at him and grinned. "Do you want to go to the arcade?"

"Okay," he agreed immediately. Because he'd always had lots of friends but this was different somehow, and he didn't want it to end too soon. Actually, he didn't want it to end at all, but Danny would get bored of him hanging around soon enough.

*

They spent nearly three hours in the arcade. He'd done his best to show Robert how to beat the high score on 'Asteroids', but Robert had found it funny when the little ship blew up and tried to come up with as many creative ways of losing as possible. Danny hadn't objected too much. It was fun, they had the money and he liked hearing Robert laugh.

They only left because the arcade was closing. Danny was in no particular hurry to get back home. Okay, so his parents would be worried by now, but one or other of them was always staying out till all hours of the night, and he wasn't supposed to worry then. And maybe they hadn't even noticed he was gone. They'd been fighting more than usual lately. And Robert didn't seem to want to go home either, which Danny could completely understand. He could vaguely remember how scary his parents' constant arguing had been when he was that age. He hadn't been able to understand that it wasn't _always_ his fault.

"I'm hungry," Robert commented, as they stepped out of the arcade.

"Me too," Danny agreed. It had been a long time since lunch, and normally he'd have a snack or something when he came in from school.

"Do you want to pick up some chips or something?" Robert suggested.

Danny shook his head. "Nah. Let's go get some proper food." They'd passed a diner a little way down the street. Seemed like a good idea to him.

Robert nodded and followed him contentedly.

The diner – which went by the imaginative name of 'Mabel's Diner' – was empty when they went in except for the woman serving behind the counter who regarded them in surprise.

They smiled nervously at her and took a seat at one of the booths. She was over immediately.

"Are you meeting your parents here?" she asked.

Danny shook his head. "No, ma'am. It's just us," he told her politely.

She frowned.

"We have money," Robert offered, and produced a handful.

"Oh, honey, that's far from being the problem here." She smiled gently.

"We're just looking to get something to eat, ma'am," Danny said with his most charming smile.

She sighed and looked from one to the other. Her gaze lingered on Robert and Danny wondered just what she was seeing. "What'll it be?"

"Can we have pie? And chocolate cake? And ice-cream? And banana milkshake?" Robert asked eagerly.

Danny smiled; so much for proper food.

The woman looked thoughtful. "Did I tell you about our special deals? If you order a main course you get as much dessert as you can eat free."

Robert's eyes widened. "Really?" he breathed.

"Sure you do," she nodded firmly. "Long as you eat it all up, even the vegetables."

Robert pulled a face. Danny bit his lip. "I'll have a burger then," he decided.

"Two please," Robert nodded happily.

She smiled at both of them. "Coming right up."

The burgers, when they arrived, were delicious and juicy, and came with a mountain of salad. Robert tore into his right away and Danny was reminded of how he'd eaten the lunch they'd shared. As though he was expecting Danny to take it away at any moment. Made him wonder how often bigger kids had stolen Robert's lunch, and that thought didn't exactly help the guilt that he still felt whenever he thought about how this thing had started. Robert didn't really seem like the type to be bullied, but then he remembered the limp and vowed to keep an eye open and watch for any signs. Then he could figure out the appropriate steps to take. Somehow he thought he might enjoy doing that.

"Can I ask you something?" he began, casually, once the lady had cleared away the empty plates with a smile, and Robert was demolishing a large slab of chocolate cake.

"Uh huh." He didn't look up.

"How come you don't like your name?" Because he just preferred being Danny, but there'd seemed to be something more to Robert's reaction.

Robert still didn't look up but he tensed slightly. "It's not my name."

Danny frowned "What do – "

" – My Dad's name." He did look up then, and there was something in his eyes that scared Danny a little. "I hear it and I think of him. Not me."

He smiled as reassuringly as he could. "You don't look like a Robert anyway."

"Promise?" he stared straight at him desperately.

"Definitely," Danny nodded. "We should find you a new name. One that ends in 'Y'."

"Why?"

"Yes," Danny agreed.

He frowned. "No, I mean – "

"- Oh!" Danny got it. "Oh, sorry. Because all cool names end in 'Y'"

The frown deepened. "You think I'm – "

" – Definitely." Danny grinned. That much was obvious.

*

They yelled at him; he wasn't surprised. Words like 'disappointment' and 'irresponsible' and 'stupid' flew freely. And of course, the old favourite, 'and what would the neighbours think?' And then Mom had said he was 'just like his father' and Dad had turned on her and they'd been screaming at each other, Danny's sins long forgotten and he managed to sneak up the stairs without being noticed.

He spent some time reading comics by flashlight, ignoring the raging storm below him with an effort. And when he turned it off and lay in the dark, trying uselessly to sleep, he found himself wondering how Robert was. Hopefully his parents hadn't been so angry. And he wondered if Robert would like to play together at lunch tomorrow. Because Danny hadn't been looking to make any close friends. But somehow he had and he didn't regret it in the slightest.

He heard the crash of glass against the wall and he pulled his blankets and pillows off the bed and padded through to the bathroom. Lying curled in the bathtub there was blessed silence and he managed to drift off to sleep.

*

When he got home Dad was nowhere to be seen. Mom was slumped on the sofa, the radio blaring out static beside her, her vacant stare tracking a cockroach's progress up the wall.

"Hi, Mom." he began cheerfully. "I was out at the arcade with Danny. I told you about Danny, remember? He shared his lunch with me the other day when...when I left mine at home. We had fun."

It was a game that he often played. He would talk, the way he'd heard Brady and Cameron and Johnny and others talking to their moms and he'd pretend that maybe this time she'd respond the same way. Of course, he always made sure that he was standing well out of her reach. And he never, ever even thought of playing it with Dad.

She threw a bottle at him and he didn't flinch; she was a terrible shot. "You talk too much," she slurred. "Giving me a headache."

He nodded. Not a night for games then. He glanced over at the pile of glass and the pool of liquid. Nearly a full bottle. He'd be made to explain that to Dad when he came in. Because it was bad to waste things, just as it was bad to be noisy and upset Mom.

He hoped that Danny's night was going better. And he hoped that Danny had really meant what he'd said about them playing together again. Because it had been a very good day.


	14. In the Beginning Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline:
> 
> 1\. In the Beginning Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 13 &14) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9  
>  2\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
>  3.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
>  4\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
>  5\. View from the Outside (Chapter 12) Rusty is 11, Danny is 14  
>  6\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
>  7\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
>  8\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
>  9\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
>  10\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
>  11\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
>  12\. Such a Perfect Day (Chapter 11) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

Danny hadn't managed to catch up with Robert until after school was done. At recess he'd been kept in by Mrs. O'Donnell who apparently hadn't especially appreciated his creative writing assignment. Possibly he should have made more of an effort to change the names. And then at lunchtime he'd had to dance round Freddy, Buzz and Doug who were still a little confused, but Danny just wasn't content to be killing time with them now. And he really wasn't so happy, anymore, to be stealing little kids' lunches. But he'd felt strangely disappointed not to have been able to find Robert afterwards so he headed to the main gate and the crush of waiting, eager parents. His were never there. Never had been. Even back in kindergarten and first grade it had been Elsa, his babysitter who waited for him. Somehow he doubted that Robert's parents would be there either - Robert's 'they don't really care' from last night was a little too familiar - but he was hoping to maybe linger and hopefully catch Robert as he came out of school. All quite by chance of course. He'd sit on the wall and act like he was tying his shoelace, or something. Except when he got there, Robert was already sitting on the wall. And as Danny approached he saw him tying his shoelace with an expression of intense concentration. Danny paused, hiding behind a group of fifth graders and their parents and had to stifle a laugh as he saw Robert contemplate his foot for a moment before he carefully untied the lace again. He was just starting to retie it when Danny walked up to him.

"Practising?" Danny asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Something like that," Robert agreed and when he looked up at Danny and smiled, Danny's heart caught in his throat. Robert's eye was swollen almost shut, the skin around it purple in a way that Danny had only ever seen on TV.

"What happened? Did one of the older kids hit you? Was it Norris Carrol?" He'd heard Norris boasting about making kids cry before. If he'd hurt Robert . . . Danny didn't even know what he'd do. But he'd never felt this angry before.

Robert looked puzzled before he put his hand up to his face. "Oh! No, of course he didn't. It's nothing."

"What happened?" Danny demanded again.

Robert shrugged and grinned up at Danny. "I was bad."

Danny stared at him blankly and tried to understand. But he couldn't. He couldn't imagine what 'bad' thing Robert could possibly have been doing to get a black eye like that. "But what happened?" he repeated.

"Oh!" Robert suddenly seemed to understand something different. As though he thought that Danny's question had meant something else this time round. "I fell." He looked at Danny as though seeking approval.

Danny could hear the lie and really didn't understand any better and he was about to ask further when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Daniel. How lovely to see you again. And how are you?"

Annette Darcey's mother. One of the last people that Danny ever wanted to see. "I'm very well, thank you, Mrs Darcey," he replied politely, and turned round and smiled at her.

She did something with her lips that could have been called a smile by someone who had never seen one before and she pinched his cheek before she turned her attention to Robert. "And who is your little friend?" She reached out, obviously intending to pinch his cheek, or ruffle his hair, or do one of the hundred little things that she seemed to save up to humiliate people. And it was difficult to say whether she or Danny was more surprised when Robert flinched away from her outstretched hand and leapt off the wall and out of her reach. And in that moment Danny saw two things. Firstly he saw that Mrs Darcey was preparing to deliver one of her long lectures on manners. And secondly, and far more importantly, he saw that Robert was genuinely scared.

"Excuse me, Mrs Darcey," he interrupted quickly, "But I didn't think that Annette went to this school. I thought she was still taking advantage of the music programme at St. Catherine's."

That did the trick; his mom always said that Juliet Darcey would never turn down the chance to talk about her precious daughter's talents. "Yes, she is. She's even got a solo in the school concert this year. It's such a good school, such a shame you had to leave, though I suppose your parents were wise to pull you out before you were expelled. And how are you finding this place?"

"It's fine," Danny said with a smile. "I think I like it here."

"Yes. My goddaughter Celeste is a student here." She nodded over to where Annette was talking eagerly to another girl. "It's a good school. And of course they do wonders with delinquents."

She didn't seem to realise that she'd just insulted her own goddaughter. But somehow, just from the way he was standing, and carefully not reacting, Danny knew that Robert had, and was killing himself laughing inside. Choking back his own laughter, Danny smiled politely at her again. "Yes. Well, we need to be on our way, Mrs. Darcey. It was nice seeing you again."

She nodded to him. "Remember me to your mother," she commanded, and walked back to Annette and Celeste. "Girls! We'll be late for ballet practice."

"Who was that?" Robert asked him quietly, his eyes wide.

"Juliet Darcey. And yes, she's as scary as she looks. She's a friend of my mom's." He considered some of the dinner parties he'd been witness to. "Well, not really a friend. More of a packmate. Like hyenas." He thought of the snarling and snapping he'd seen on that nature program the other week. And the laughter. Definitely hyenas.

"Want to head into town?" Robert suggested hesitantly.

He really, really shouldn't. He'd been in enough trouble last night. "Can't." He shook his head regretfully. "How about you come over to my place instead?"

"Really?" Rusty hesitated. "Your parents won't be...they won't mind?"

"They probably won't be in," Danny said. They always said they would be, but most of the time something happened and they had to work late instead. Which suited him fine.

They started walking towards the bus stop. "It wouldn't have hurt you know," Danny said abruptly.

Robert looked at him.

He felt compelled to explain. "I mean when she – "

" – I know," Robert interrupted. "I don't like to be touched," he added quietly, and there was that same fear behind his words.

Danny frowned. "It's just this cheek pinching thing she does. It doesn't hurt, it's just embarrassing."

"Oh." He could feel Robert's confusion and disbelief and he just didn't know what to say.

*

Danny's house was huge. Two stories and it was just Danny and his parents who lived there. Robert couldn't imagine what they did with the space. And they had a front and a back yard, and two garages and a shiny new-looking car parked in the driveway.

He noticed Danny staring at the car unhappily. "My Mom's home."

"We could go somewhere else until she's gone, or asleep or whatever?" he suggested hesitantly.

Danny sighed. "We can't dodge her forever." He paused. "But I guess we can for now. Come on. I'll show you this great place I found the other week. Race you!"

"But I don't know where we're going," Robert pointed out as he ran after Danny.

"Then I'll win!" Danny yelled back.

Somehow that seemed less than fair.

They headed away from the house and up the hill. Pretty soon Robert realised that they were heading towards what looked like an abandoned and falling down house. There was grass growing on the boarded up windows and what looked like a small tree growing out of what was left of the chimney. "Stop!" he yelled to Danny, who was still quite some way in front of him.

Danny did, just like Robert had known he would, and with a frown he waited for Robert to walk up to him. Then Robert suddenly sprinted past him and, giggling, and hearing Danny race to try and catch up, crossed the threshold. "I win!" he cheered.

Shaking his head angrily – and he knew, somehow, that he wasn't really mad – Danny pointed at him. "You are a cheat. And a thief. And a liar."

"Uh huh," he agreed happily. "I'm bad."

To his surprise, Danny immediately shook his head and looked serious. "No, you're just a cheat and a thief and a liar. You're not bad."

He frowned at Danny and really didn't understand.

Danny smiled. "Never mind. Wanna play at cowboys?"

"Yeah!" he grinned, confusion forgotten.

"Okay." Danny thought for a second. "I'll be Tex Harker, Sheriff of these here parts, you can be Rusty Rawlins, daring outlaw."

Sounded good to Robert. "Cool. I'm wearing a mask," he decided. "Like the Lone Ranger."

"Well, I've got a badge. Like," Danny frowned. "Well, also like the Lone Ranger, I guess."

"Right! And I'm going to come riding into town on my horse Snoopy." He started trotting along beside the wall of the house, looking round carefully for bandits.

Danny paused. "You can't call a horse Snoopy!"

"Why not?" he demanded. If he had a real horse he'd call it Snoopy.

And Danny didn't seem to have an argument to that. "...okay. Fair enough." Danny settled himself outside the door of the house, tipped an imaginary Stetson and started to whistle 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.' Robert grinned and slowed his horse down to fit.

He spoke in a drawl, like he'd heard cowboys on screen do. "I'm fixin' to rob this here bank."

Danny stood up and hitched up where he thought a gun belt would sit. "Well, I'm a-goin' to stop you. Nobody messes with Tex Harker's town."

"Rusty Ryan does." He realised immediately that he should have used the surname Danny had thought up, but Danny didn't seem to notice. Or mind.

They drew their guns and shot at each other for several enjoyable minutes, chasing each other round the building, tripping over the 'Danger! Condemned' signs several times.

"Give up, Rusty!" Danny yelled finally. "You're out of bullets."

"So are you!" Robert called back.

"Well, I still got my knife." Danny brandished his empty hand triumphantly.

The memory of that summer day and the look in Mom's eyes and the tip of the blade rose up in his mind and he pushed them down as best he could. "...I don't like knives."

Danny paused and immediately opened his hand, getting rid of the imaginary knife. "It's just a game, Rus...Robert."

He shook his head. "I don't like knives. Sorry, Danny."

"Well, guess you still got a few bullets there, pardner," Danny smiled.

Except somehow even that didn't sound fun anymore. "I don't want to hurt anyone," he said quietly.

"Then how're you going to rob the bank?" Danny didn't sound impatient or scornful. He sounded curious, like he was sure that there was an answer.

Robert thought for a moment. "I'm going to sneak in very, very quietly, and because I'm so little and careful that no-one ever sees me, and I crawl behind the desk and I reach for the money..." Without even thinking about it he matched his actions to his words.

" ...the guy behind the desk sees you! And he reaches for the gun, and he's going to shoot you!" Danny's voice was alarmed and Robert immediately started to crawl backwards. "Rusty! No!" Danny cried in alarm and he lunged forwards, kicked violently at the air and nearly fell over. "I kick the gun out of his hand! Grab the cash!"

Robert darted forwards again and grabbed the money from the desk. "Got it!"

They sprinted away from the building, dodging hails of bullets all the time, jumped on their horses and galloped away. When they silently agreed they were safe, they fell to the ground, exhausted.

"Had enough of Sheriffing?" Robert asked.

"Couldn't let him shoot you." Danny propped himself up on one elbow. "Who would I talk to?"

Robert grinned and said nothing.

*

It had taken a lot of effort to persuade Robert to stay for dinner. It honestly wasn't a big deal, he had friends over all the time and his parents never minded. Or possibly never noticed. He wasn't quite sure. Admittedly most of the time they were neighbourhood kids, ones that his parents knew and could be sent home in five minutes if asked. But still. Danny couldn't believe that there'd really be a problem.

He couldn't believe that there'd really be a problem until he saw his Mom staring at Robert with a barely concealed look of disgust.

Incredulous, he turned to look at Robert himself, trying to understand what she was seeing. For the first time he noticed that Robert's hair was quite a bit longer than most kids, obviously in dire need of cutting, and that his jumper was thin, almost worn through in places, and frayed to the point of unravelling at the collar and the hem. And his jeans were badly patched, and his trainers had a couple of holes in them and none of that was Robert's fault, but somehow he realised that Mom didn't approve.

He also realised, even as he watched him smiling politely at her - and staying well out of arms reach – that Robert knew perfectly well just what Danny's Mom thought of him. And Danny didn't know how he was supposed to react to that but he felt hot and angry and embarrassed all at once.

Mom had smiled graciously and said that of course Robert was welcome to stay for dinner. Then she'd gone and had an urgent discussion with his Dad in the kitchen, and he'd seen Dad look out into the dining room at Robert – less disgusted but equally disapproving – and he'd wanted to just grab Rusty and head for the hills and never, ever look back. Instead he'd contented himself with trying to offer as many silent apologies as he could without his parents noticing. But when Robert looked at him and mouthed, "It's okay," the smile didn't reach Robert's eyes. Because it wasn't okay.

And they sat in silence at first, and Danny watched Robert eat his soup very, very carefully and he never thought that he'd wish that his parents would start arguing with each other. But they were united now, and he hated it.

"So, Robert. That's quite a shiner you have there. What happened?" Dad asked, with the same smile that he tended to give Uncle Harold.

Robert jumped and dripped soup all over the tablecloth. "I'm sorry," he whispered, breathlessly. Danny winced; Mom always hated it when he spilled things on her linens and, true to form, her mouth twisted and she began to complain, even as Dad leapt up and grabbed a wet cloth and leaned over Robert to scrub the stain out. And even though neither of his parents seemed to notice, Danny could see the way that Robert shied away from Dad. The way he gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. Frozen. Waiting. Terrified.

He bit his lip. "You fell, isn't that what you said?" he asked, figuring that making sure his parents didn't ask again would probably be a good idea. "Off a wall." he added, when Robert didn't seem to be able to answer. Might as well expand the lie, make it more realistic.

And at last Robert looked at him and he smiled reassuringly. Robert nodded slowly. "Uh huh. The wall at school. I was playing and I guess I slipped."

"That was careless." Mom said, thin-lipped.

"Boys will be boys," Dad said, with a smile, finishing wiping the tablecloth and ruffling Robert's hair. He didn't seem to notice that Robert was trembling. "Where do you live?" he asked, as he sat back down. "I'll give you a lift home after dinner."

"I can do that, Luke," Mom put in and there was something in the way she looked at him that Danny didn't quite like. "And Danny can come too."

Dad frowned at her for a moment and then seemed to give up and cleared away the dishes. "Green bean casserole." he called, carrying the dish through. "Hope you like it, Robert."

"Yes, thank you, sir." Danny didn't understand why Robert was scared. But the fact that his voice was so steady was seriously impressive.

Dad smiled. "Sir. I like that. Maybe you should give Danny some lessons in manners."

Mom frowned. "You never did say where you live, Robert."

"Over on North Sloan Street," Robert said quietly. That meant absolutely nothing to Danny, but judging by the way Dad paused in the act of dishing out the casserole and exchanged a long and serious look with Mom, it meant something to his parents. Something bad. And honestly, did they think that he and Rusty were blind, or stupid? Or did they just not care?

"How...nice," Dad said, with a forced smile. "So, what do your parents do?"

"Uh, they don't really do anything. My Dad lost his job a little while ago."

"I see." Mom turned to stare at Danny, and he realised that she thought he should be getting something out of this.

"That's tough." he said sympathetically. "Hey, have you seen that new Disney film yet? Freddy's mom is taking a group of us tomorrow. You could come too." And who'd have thought there were ways of lying so that just one person knew you were?

"I'm sure that Freddy's mom doesn't want to be bothered with any more people," Dad said firmly.

He shook his head. "She won't mind." She probably wouldn't, if they did show up. "Come on, it's 'Robin Hood'," he added persuasively.

Robert's eyes lit up. "With the dog?" he asked eagerly.

"Fox," Danny corrected. Maybe they would go and see the movie, after they'd lifted a wallet or two. It could be good fun. "Wanna see?"

"Yeah!" Robert grinned, and Danny realised that they'd definitely be going to see the movie. Oh, well.

The casserole finished, his mom cleared the plates away. "Now, have you got everything Robert? Your coat?"

"I don't have one," Robert said quietly.

"Oh." For a moment Mom seemed completely baffled. "Well, come on anyway. You too, Daniel."

"Perhaps Danny should stay here," Dad interjected, an uneasy look on his face.

"Can I talk to you for a moment, Luke? Dear?" Danny watched as they stepped into the kitchen and had a brief and heated, though mercifully quiet, discussion. He only caught snatches of it.

"...Not a good idea to..."

"...I want him to _see_."

"I just don't think that..."

"...bad influence..."

Danny exchanged a long and uncomfortable look with Robert. Mom walked back to them, looking triumphant. "Get your shoes on, Daniel."

He wondered what she was trying to do.

*

Dinner had been a complete nightmare. He'd known from the beginning that he and Danny came from very different places, but when Danny hadn't seemed to mind it hadn't occurred to him that his parents would. But he'd seen the way they looked at him and it _hurt_. There was no way they were going to let Danny spend any more time with him. And he'd been stupid and clumsy and he'd been sure that they were going to punish him, but they hadn't, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe there was no hitting in front of other people. After all, mostly he didn't get hit when people could see. Not something he wanted to rely on though.

The journey back to his place didn't last too long. For all it was a different world, it wasn't that far away. He and Danny shared the backseat, exchanging all the Robin Hood stories that they knew. He liked the one with the archery contest best. But long before he was expecting it, Danny's Mom was slowing the car down.

"Which one is it, Robert?"

"Uh, next block. The third one."

She glared at him in the rear view mirror and he felt Danny's concerned gaze on the side of his face. That had been one good thing. Danny didn't seem to see the same things his parents saw. Didn't think that Robert was bad. And somehow that made everything worthwhile.

The car screeched to a halt outside the apartment building and Robert made to leap out. "Thank you very much for the lift, Mrs Ocean," he said politely and grinned at Danny.

"Wait a minute, Robert." She smiled at him. It wasn't pleasant. "I think that Daniel and I would like to come up."

Oh, that wasn't good. She knew he was bad, and if she told Dad things would get worse.

"There's no need," he said politely and looked imploringly at Danny.

With a look that he didn't quite understand, Danny obliged. "Come on, Mom, Robert can manage to find his home from here. And there's a programme I want to see on TV."

"No, I insist." She opened the car door and, reluctantly, Danny did the same.

"Sorry," he whispered to Robert, despite the fact that he clearly had no idea what he was sorry for.

"It's okay," he whispered back.

The door to the building was open, of course. But at least it wasn't hanging off the hinges like it had been last month. He led them into the hallway, fully conscious of Mrs. Ocean taking in every piece of graffiti, every little bit of garbage and evidence of rats that covered the floor. And he knew that she was forcing Danny to see, to contrast the way he lived with the way they lived. He didn't dare glance back to see Danny's expression. Some things didn't need to be any more difficult than they already were.

They walked in silence up the stairs and Robert knocked on the door and hoped against hope that his parents were actually in and sober enough to answer. Because he had no idea what would happen if they weren't, but it really couldn't be anything good.

Fortunately after a couple of minutes the door swung open and Dad glared down at him. "Where the fuck have you been? Get in here, you little shit." He pulled Robert inside, roughly by the shoulder and stopped on seeing Danny and his Mom.

"Good evening, Mr. Ryan." Danny's mom smiled disdainfully. "Your son was over at my house this evening and I was just returning him."

He felt fingers squeeze his shoulder, far too hard, and he bit into his lip.

"That was very kind of you," Dad said after a moment. "I hope the boy wasn't any trouble."

"None at all," she said in a tone that meant " _Lots_ ".

Dad dug his fingers in deeper and he couldn't help but gasp.

"You're hurting him!" Danny glared and he smiled to show that it was all right. Because he _was_ in trouble.

"Hush, Daniel," Mrs. Ocean scolded. "Well, we need to be going. Goodnight Mr. Ryan. Robert."

Danny looked straight at him for a long moment and Robert could read sympathy and concern and, yes, friendship in that stare. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rusty."

And he nodded. Worthwhile. All of it.

*

Danny sat on the edge of the fountain and worried. He'd snuck out of the house easy enough, despite all his parent's best efforts but the fact that Rusty wasn't here yet had him bothered. As soon as they were back in the car last night, Mom had looked at him and said "Well?" and when he'd answered "Well what?" she'd been less than happy. In fact, it had started a long talk on how he needed to respect her, which had followed very nicely into a monologue on how he needed to be far more careful what sort of people he spent time with, let alone invited back to the house. It was quite impressive. Without her ever using any actually insulting words, she made it quite clear just what she thought of Robert, and Danny had to bite back several words of his own.

In the end he'd managed to neither agree nor disagree when she ordered him not to spend any more time with Robert. Because there was a part of him that couldn't quite believe that he was willing to go so far for a boy – a boy nearly three years younger than him – whom he'd known for less than a week. But there was another part of him that felt prepared to go a whole lot further, and that part thought that maybe children shouldn't be scared of adults the way Robert was, and maybe lying about bruises and not liking to be touched, and always being hungry and not having nice clothes, and having a father who didn't care that he hurt you...maybe it added up to something that he just wasn't quite able to get his head around. Something that made him sick just to think about.

And he'd snuck out of the house and was waiting round the corner from the diner they'd been in before, just like they'd said, and Rusty was late and Danny was worrying. He was sure that Robert would be here any moment though. Probably just got the time wrong or something. He'd be here soon, and they'd go and find another couple of wallets, and it'd be fun, and then they'd go to the movies and he'd see how much popcorn Robert could eat and they wouldn't need to worry about anything for the rest of the day.

Finally, Rusty appeared and Danny forgot how to think. The black eye yesterday had horrified him. This hurt in more ways than he could even understand. The left-hand side of Robert's face was a solid mass of swollen purple, except for the few bits that were bloodied instead. He was hunched over, his arm cradled in to his chest. And when he saw Danny and tried to smile a bead of blood fell off his lip.

They stood looking at each other for a moment. "Come on," Danny said, at last, gently.

"Where?" Robert asked.

"That diner round the corner. The one we went to before. Think you need to sit down before you fall down."

"It's fine." He tried to shrug and winced. Danny blinked back tears. Not helpful right now.

"Come on," he repeated, and led Rusty round the corner.

The moment they set foot in the door, the lady from before was all over them. "Oh my, come in and sit down." she said, flipping the sign to 'Closed' and getting them settled at the nearest table. "What happened, honey?" she asked Robert softly, reaching out to rub at his shoulder. Rusty flinched and Danny closed his eyes briefly.

"He's bruised everywhere," he explained, almost apologetically.

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Let me go and get the first aid kit." She hurried off.

"Danny, let's go," Robert said quietly, staring at the door.

He crouched down in front of Rusty. "She isn't going to hurt you, Rusty," he promised. Because he was sure of it. "Let her help you. Please."

He was rewarded with a careful smile. "That's the second time you've called me that."

"What?" he frowned and then realised. "Oh. Sorry."

"You can call me it if you want," Rusty told him, his eyes soft. "I like it. It ends in 'Y'."

"Yes, it does." He grinned, happy to have done something right.

Mabel came back, laden down with gauze and bandages and antiseptic and arnica cream. "Okay, sweetie. Tilt your head back and let me get a look."

With a quick glance at Danny, Rusty obeyed. Mabel looked him over carefully and sighed. "Oh, honey. How did this happen?"

"There were some big kids and they said that my cousin had stolen something from them and they . . . they hit me and I fell down the stairs." It was a good lie. Danny could hear it in every word, but Mabel looked completely taken in. Completely furious, but definitely taken in. "They said they were sorry," Rusty added sweetly.

"Do you know who they were?" Mabel demanded. Rusty shrank back. "I'm not angry at you, honey," she added in a softer tone of voice. Behind her, Danny smiled at Rusty and willed him to see the truth in her words.

Rusty relaxed a little. "I didn't know them."

"Okay. Listen, I need to clean out those cuts on your face, okay?" She held up the antiseptic bottle. Rusty looked at it suspiciously.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's just antiseptic," she assured him. "Just like your Mom uses." She opened it and looked surprised. "It's empty. I'm sure I bought another one the other day. Just a minute." She ran into the back.

Rusty shot a confused look at Danny and he realised that Rusty still had no idea what was going on. He smiled slightly. "It'll clean your cuts and stop them getting infected," he explained and tried not to think what it meant that Rusty didn't recognise medicine. He hesitated, because he supposed he'd lied a little. "It'll hurt but it's good for you."

"Because I'm bad." Rusty nodded understandingly.

"No!" Without even noticing it, he took Rusty's hand in his own. Rusty didn't seem to mind at all. "You're not bad," he said quietly. "Not at all."

And there were so many more things that he wanted to say, about how wrong his parents were, and how wrong Rusty's parents were, and hell, how wrong the _world_ was, but Rusty was looking completely lost, so he contented himself with stroking his hand and whispering, "I'm glad I tried to steal your lunch."

It sounded so stupid and inadequate, but Rusty smiled at him. "Me too."

And he realised in that moment that Rusty was the best friend he'd ever had, and he was prepared to do anything to help him.

If only he knew how.


	15. Neverending Conversation Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline:
> 
> 1\. In the Beginning Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 13 &14) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 2\. Neverending Conversation Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 15 & 16) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 3\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
> 4.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 5\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 6\. View from the Outside (Chapter 12) Rusty is 11, Danny is 14  
> 7\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 8\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 9\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 10\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 11\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 12\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
> 13\. Such a Perfect Day (Chapter 11) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

They ended up curled up in Danny's bedroom on Monday night, partly because Rusty's bruises were still dark enough to get them stared at if they went out, but mostly because it was raining. Technically speaking Danny was still grounded and shouldn't have been having visitors but Mom had been screaming at Dad over breakfast – apparently Dad had stayed out all night again – and Danny had been happily forgotten. Again.

They listened to the radio for a while and made fun of the DJ but Danny couldn't stop thinking. He hadn't been able to persuade Rusty to come back home with him on Saturday and he'd been frantic with worry for the rest of the weekend. Because he honestly didn't know what Rusty was facing but that didn't stop him from feeling scared and helpless. And he hated that feeling.

The rest of Saturday they'd spent at Mabel's and Danny had _seen_ how hurt Rusty was. The bruises. The blood. It was a lot more exciting when it was on the movies. When it was just some random actor who'd have washed it all off by the next scene, not a seven year old who struggled not to wince every time he moved, and never, ever made a sound no matter how much it hurt. And Danny had watched Rusty steel himself every time Mabel came near and do everything but cringe with every gentle touch as she treated his injuries. And it broke Danny's heart.

"Just say it," Rusty said seriously as the DJ launched into a full-throated chicken impersonation.

Danny looked round at him. "What?" he asked startled.

Rusty sighed. "You've been looking at me strange all day. There's something on your mind."

"Yeah. Something." Danny frowned and tried to figure out just what he wanted to say. He sighed. "My parents were really angry with me for sneaking out on Saturday," he began.

Rusty looked up sharply. "If you don't want – "

And Danny just knew what he was going to say. _'If you don't want to be friends anymore that's okay.'_ " – I do," he interrupted hastily. "That's not what I meant."

"I'd understand," Rusty assured him quietly.

"I wouldn't," Danny said and smiled. "Wasn't what I was going to say."

Rusty cocked his head. "Then – "

" - My parents were angry. They yelled a lot. Said I was stupid and thoughtless and irresponsible. All that sort of stuff. And they grounded me for a couple of weeks; though I think they've forgotten about it now." He was watching Rusty's face very carefully and he saw the concern and worry replaced by relief and puzzlement.

"They didn't..." Rusty trailed off.

"What?" Danny asked gently.

"They didn't punish you?" Rusty asked quietly.

Danny did his best to keep his face neutral but Rusty still frowned at him, obviously aware that he'd said something wrong. Danny sighed. "The grounding was the punishment," he explained.

"But they didn't hit you?" Rusty's voice was anxious.

"No," Danny said wearily and more than anything he wished that he'd been wrong. "They don't do that."

"Good," Rusty said simply and there was a long silence while Danny willed himself to ask the next question.

"Rusty?" he said at last and the fact that his voice was steady was a matter of sheer willpower. "What happened after me and Mom left on Friday night?"

Rusty looked away uncomfortably. "He was angry. He doesn't like it when people come by like that."

Danny swallowed. "What did he do?"

"Taught me a lesson," Rusty shrugged. As though it was obvious.

"What did he do?" And he despised the harshness in his own voice but he couldn't help it.

Rusty opened his mouth and Danny just knew that he was going to lie, and he met Rusty's eyes and silently begged him, and they stared at each other for a long moment. In the end Rusty looked away first and took a deep breath. "He just hit me a couple of times. It's not a big deal." And his voice was calm and reassuring and he believed every word.

Only it was a big deal and this was surely beyond what Danny could reasonably be expected to cope with. And the part of him that was imagining Rusty's dad hitting him 'just a couple of times' felt sick and angry. "It's not right. We need to tell someone."

"Why?" Rusty frowned and there was a hint of fear in his eyes. "Telling just makes it worse. If you tell then everyone will know..."

"What?" Danny asked gently.

"Everyone will know I'm bad," Rusty said quietly.

Danny took a deep breath. "You're not bad," he said firmly, but Rusty looked unconvinced. "It isn't right."

"They're my parents. They can do what they like," Rusty argued persuasively. "It's normal; no-one's going to care. All that happens if you tell is that I get punished for whining." And there was complete conviction in Rusty's voice and Danny found himself hesitating.

"That's not what would happen," he said weakly and Rusty looked at him and shook his head sadly.

"It's normal. It's just life."

"No," Danny protested. He looked at the fading bruises on Rusty's face. This wasn't just life. _Surely_.

Rusty smiled at him. "Look, why don't we go watch TV and forget about it."

Danny sighed and capitulated and they went downstairs and watched Bugs Bunny. But he didn't forget about it.

*

He took a handful of potato chips and watched Danny carefully. It was obvious that Danny was still worrying about something, and Rusty was pretty sure it was because of their conversation last night. Honestly, there had to be some way that he could persuade Danny that it really wasn't that bad. Because it wasn't. Sometimes he was bad, and then he got hurt and then it was all forgotten. And maybe it wasn't quite normal; maybe it didn't happen to other people so much, but it was his life and he was doing fine. He shouldn't have told Danny at all. Except it seemed like Danny already knew. And lying to Danny...well, for one thing it didn't seem to work too well. And for another thing, it just felt _wrong_. But if Danny told anyone then it would be like when Brady had told Miss Harris about the lunch thing. People would look at him differently, and they'd tell his parents that he'd been complaining and it would just be more pain and humiliation and nothing would change. Anyway, whatever Dad said, he wasn't a whiner.

But the other thing - the thing that was really bothering him – was the way that Danny had looked at him on Saturday. As if it mattered. As if he didn't like seeing Rusty hurt. Because, okay, it was bad. It hadn't been that bad for a while, not since Mom and Dad had come home unexpectedly and caught him eating smashed cookie crumbs off the floor. And he'd been punished for being disgusting and like a wild animal, and he'd been ashamed, and he'd agreed, but they'd been gone so long that time, and he'd been so scared that they weren't going to come back that he'd actually taken to knocking at the door, hoping that one of the neighbours would hear and let him out. But all that'd happened was that he'd got blood smeared all over the woodwork. The cookies had been the last thing in the cupboard. He'd eaten the rest, even though he'd tried to make it last. And they were so high up and even standing on a chair he'd only just been able to grab the corner of the bag and he'd stretched and tugged at them, and somehow he'd overbalanced and fallen off the chair, and he'd landed on the cookies and the bag had burst and the cookies had got all smashed. He'd gathered up all the big bits first, and that had kept him going for another day, but in the end he'd been picking up the crumbs from the carpet. And that had been when they'd come home. And yeah, there'd been a lot of pain, and a lot of screaming, but afterwards Mom had picked him up off the floor and what had really hurt had been the look in her eyes when she scrubbed the blood off his face and asked why he had to be so bad. He just didn't _know_.

"Hey," Danny spoke quietly but there was urgency in his voice. Rusty blinked and the schoolyard came back into focus. "Are you okay?"

He took a long moment, and glanced down and with a grimace brushed the crushed potato chips off his hands. What a waste. "Yeah. Went away a little." He couldn't really explain it.

Danny didn't look in the slightest bit reassured. "What were you thinking about?"

He hesitated. "Just stuff."

"Bad stuff?" Danny asked and he didn't seem to want to let this go.

"Stuff," Rusty answered vaguely.

"Your parents," Danny said, and it wasn't a guess.

He nodded, because it was true.

"You need to tell someone." And Danny's voice was firm but there was a crack of desperation in it.

He sighed. "Danny – "

" – If you don't I will," Danny said firmly.

And that wasn't good. "Don't. Please." He heard his voice tremble slightly.

Danny bit his lip and said nothing and Freddy, Buzz and Doug came round the corner. Not good. Danny had already been getting a certain amount of hassle for hanging around with him. He'd suggested that maybe they should only meet up outside school, because it would be safer, and Danny had just looked at him and asked if that was what he really wanted. And in the end he'd grinned and told the truth. Of course it wasn't what he wanted. And it wasn't what Danny wanted either. But there were always going to be consequences.

Doug smiled. "Hey, Danny, wanna come shoot some hoops?"

Danny turned to look at him. "You want to?" he asked.

Rusty shrugged. "Sure, why not."

"No," Freddy glared. "Just you. Unless you want to hang around with the baby forever."

There was a pause, and Rusty could tell that Danny was angry, even though he was still smiling. "I'll hang around with who I like, Freddy. Rusty's my friend."

Unexpectedly Buzz frowned and stepped in. "Hey, I know Robert. He lives on the block behind me. He's all right."

Oh yeah. He could remember seeing Buzz hide round the back of his building and then being asked by Mr Frost and Mrs Santos, and a few others who might as well have been holding pitchforks and flaming torches, if he'd seen him. Of course he'd lied. He grinned. "It's Rusty now. Not Robert."

Buzz shrugged. "Cool."

"I don't care what his name is, he can't hang out with us," Freddy burst out angrily.

Danny abruptly made as if to stand up and Rusty glared at him. _Not_ a good idea. Danny stared back and Rusty silently reminded him that they didn't have a hope of taking the three of them. Or the two of them, if Buzz stayed out of it.

"Go play basketball," he advised quietly and the look of hurt that Danny turned on him made him look away.

"Fine." Danny ground out. "I'll see you later."

He stared after them for a little while and then he went off to find his friends.

*

Danny waited until the other kids had run out of the class before he walked up to Mrs O'Donnell's desk and stood staring down at her as she marked papers.

"Mrs O'Donnell," he said, when she showed no signs of acknowledging him.

"What is it, Danny?" she asked distractedly.

Part of him wanted to say that it was nothing and just head outside. Meet up with Rusty. Maybe go and lift a couple of wallets and take in that movie. Because he'd practiced this conversation in so many different ways, and he still had no idea how it was supposed to go. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

She sighed and put down her pen. "Danny, if this is about your detention it's out of my hands. You left me no choice. You're a bright kid, if you'd just apply yourself..."

"No. It's _important_ ," he emphasised and she looked taken aback.

For the first time she actually looked at him. "Well what can I do for you?"

Danny took a deep breath and looked down at the ground for a long moment. He felt like a traitor. But what else could he do? "It's wrong for adults to hurt children, isn't it?"

That got her attention. She looked at him carefully. "Well, that depends. Sometimes corporal punishment is appropriate. Parents and even teachers need to enforce discipline and sometimes suitable physical chastisement is the only effective course of action."

She sounded like she was reciting something and Danny tried to translate in his head. "You mean sometimes children need to be hurt to teach them a lesson?" Sounded just like what Rusty had said and he could hear the incredulous disbelief in his voice.

"Sometimes." She really didn't look comfortable with this conversation. "But sometimes it goes too far." She swallowed nervously. "Danny, is someone hurting you?"

He shook his head quickly. "A friend of mine." She looked sceptical. He sighed. "Really," he said sincerely.

She nodded and looked almost convinced. "Can you tell me your friend's name?"

And this was the difficult part. Rusty had asked him not to tell, and just because he hadn't actually promised didn't mean that this wasn't a kind of betrayal. But everything in him told him that this couldn't continue. He couldn't watch Rusty get beat up for the rest of his life. He took a deep breath. "Robert Ryan. He's in Miss Harris' class. He's my partner for that paired reading programme."

He watched as she nodded and made a note of Rusty's name. "And what did he tell you?" she asked gently.

"He's got a lot of bruises. On his face and his arms and body. I asked how he got them and he said his Dad got angry and hit him." Funny. This made him think of all the other times he'd stood in front of a teacher trying to convince them of something. It had always been a lie before. And it had never been this important.

She nodded again and he wondered how she could be so calm. He had no idea why everyone wasn't as horrified as he was. _(Unless Rusty was right and this really was just life)_ "Thank you for telling me this, Danny. I know it can't have been easy."

She had no idea . . . "You're going to do something about it now, aren't you?" He stared at her, willing her to promise that things were going to get better.

And she wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "We're going to take the appropriate steps."

*

He was bored. He was really, really bored. Why they had to colour in pictures of elephants was beyond him. There were surely better things that they could be doing. Like almost anything, he'd have thought.

There was a knock at the door and an older girl skipped in and gave Miss Harris a note. Something new and different. Everyone looked up expectantly.

"Back to work, please," Miss Harris said sharply. "Robert, you're wanted in the Principal's office. Bring your worksheet up here please."

Well, that couldn't be good. He hadn't done anything wrong, he was almost certain of it. Or at least nothing that he'd be called to the Principal's office for. He put away the crayons very, very slowly, shuffled up to Miss Harrison's desk and handed over his colouring.

She looked at it and sighed. "Robert. Why is your elephant green?"

He blinked innocently at her. "It was kept out the fridge too long?" he suggested.

She stared at him for a long moment, slowly shaking her head. He didn't fidget or look away. He knew perfectly well that she didn't think he was too bright, and for the most part he liked it that way. Finally she sighed again. "Go."

He left and didn't start grinning till he was out the door. As he wandered round the Principal's office he tried to think about why. Could be about the whole pretending-not-to-be-able-to-read thing. If Danny could see through it then it was just possible that someone else had noticed. Or it could be the fact that he'd done Tommy's maths homework in exchange for half a Hershey bar. He still thought that maybe he'd been had on that deal, but at the time he'd really wanted the chocolate. Could even be that someone had seen him stealing. Just because he never did it anywhere near the school didn't mean that it couldn't get back to them. And it was just possible that it was about home, but he doubted it. He'd already had the 'Where did those bruises come from' conversation with Miss Harris, who didn't think that he was smart enough to lie.

He was still wondering when he knocked on the office door. "Come in." Principal Mallie's voice came immediately. Probably a good sign; if he was in trouble she'd have kept him waiting.

Head bowed he walked in slowly. "Hello," he said shyly.

"Robert." She smiled at him warmly. "Have a seat. Have a cookie."

Oh. It was going to be one of those conversations. He wondered what had happened. "Thank you." He chose one with chocolate chunks and nibbled on it.

"Now, Robert I wonder if you know why you're here?" she asked gently.

Yes. "No," he said quietly. She wasn't going to trick him into anything.

"We've had some concerning reports about you. Apparently you told another student that your father was responsible for those bruises, is that right?"

He froze. Danny had told on him. He'd asked Danny not to say anything, not to tell. He'd told him what would happen and Danny had still told. How could he? _How could he?_

Thinking fast he shuffled nervously.

"Robert?" she prompted softly.

"I didn't mean to," he blurted out, his voice far too loud in the small office. "He was being nice to me, and I wanted him to like me and I thought that he'd stay if he felt sorry for me and I'm really, really sorry and I promise I'll never do it again." By the end of his little speech his voice was trembling and the tears were showing.

The Principal frowned. "You lied."

He nodded fervently. "I saw on TV this boy whose parent's hit him, and he had lots of friends, and everyone liked him and, and . . . " He wiped at his eyes with his hand. He'd learned a long time ago that outside of his family people tended to be nice to children when they cried. Probably to make them stop. Other than that he didn't see the point of it.

She handed him the tissue and he peered up at her through his hair. Not completely convinced, but there were hints of exasperation and disgust in her eyes. That was good. Well, she'd probably tell his parents that he'd made a pathetic scene in her office, but it was better that than they thought he'd told. "So how did you get those bruises?"

This was the easy part. He'd told this story before and Mabel and Miss Harris had swallowed it easy. _(Danny hadn't. But he wasn't going to think of that now.)_ "Some big boys were shoving me around and I tripped up and fell down the stairs. They said they were sorry and then they ran away. But I was a big boy and didn't cry." He looked up at that and beamed, like he'd seen Brady do the other week when he'd scraped his knee the other week. Like not crying was something to be proud of.

And she smiled in response. "That was very brave of you, Robert." Her eyes narrowed. "Did your parents take you to a doctor?"

Ah. That was unexpected. He wasn't sure what the right answer was. They hadn't of course, it wasn't worth it, but if he wasn't bad would they have been expected to? But if he lied and said they had there'd be more questions, and more questions was never good. He shook his head dumbly. "It wasn't that bad." He thought of Mabel. "Mom put on a whole lot of antiseptic." He let his expression slide into a scowl. "It hurt."

"It's good for you," she told him absently. He got the feeling that the meeting was coming to an end. With a start he realised that he'd have to run home and tell his parents what had happened. Because just in case she did decide to take it further they needed to know what story he was telling. "Well, thank you Robert. I think that's everything I needed to know. And you won't tell that sort of lie again, will you?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said sincerely.

"And I think you owe your friend an apology, don't you?" she watched him closely.

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He'd certainly be talking with Danny.

She frowned. "And I think that a detention is in order for all the fuss you've caused, don't you?"

He wondered if he could get away with saying 'no'. Somehow he doubted it, and he scowled slightly instead. She looked amused at the small show of defiance, just as he'd wanted.

"Tomorrow, after school. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." That was an easier one.

"I'll expect to see you then." He recognised a dismissal when he heard it, and he stood and silently left the office.

School was nearly over. And he had to find Danny before he went home.

*

Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when he walked out of the classroom and Rusty stepped out of nowhere and glared at him. And he knew what this was about immediately.

"I had to," he said, even before Rusty opened his mouth.

Rusty carried on glaring, and obviously he didn't see it that way.

"It isn't right," he explained.

Rusty shook his head, but said nothing.

He swallowed. "What's going to happen?"

"Nothing," Rusty said immediately. He smiled suddenly, in a way that Danny had never seen before. "I lied to you before."

"What?" Danny asked, taken aback.

"My dad doesn't hit me. I fell down the stairs." He was looking Danny right in the eye, and he spoke simply and sincerely.

Danny shook his head. "What are you saying?"

"I lied to you," Rusty repeated.

"You're lying now," he pointed out. He just knew it. Couldn't explain how, but it was obvious. He gazed pleadingly at Rusty. "Why?"

Rusty grinned humourlessly. "I need to get home."

And he turned and left and didn't look back, and with a moment of agonising clarity, Danny realised that he'd just lost something important.


	16. Neverending Conversation Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In the Beginning Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 13 &14) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 2\. Neverending Conversation Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 15 & 16) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 3\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
> 4.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 5\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 6\. View from the Outside (Chapter 12) Rusty is 11, Danny is 14  
> 7\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 8\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 9\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 10\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 11\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 12\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
> 13\. Such a Perfect Day (Chapter 11) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

It was getting dark. Danny sat on the edge of his bed and waited. He was pretty sure that his parents would be up soon. For once they'd been getting along; dinner had been noticeably full of smiles and civility; and he'd been planning on telling them about Rusty, asking them for help while the going was good. Because there was a small part of him – a tiny, tiny part that he despised – that still thought that maybe, just maybe, if he could make them listen and if they actually _wanted_ to, his parents could fix everything. Then the phone had rang. Principal Mallie. And he could just imagine what she was telling them. Mom had taken the call and she'd just looked at him while she was talking, and he'd watched the anger and disappointment blossom on her face. Afterwards he'd been sent upstairs while she talked to Dad.

The door opened and his parents walked in. He kind of wished they'd knock. Just for politeness.

"Daniel. That was your principal on the phone," Mom began. As if he didn't know that.

"Uh huh?" He kept his voice light and curious. Innocent, even. Which, really, he was this time.

She frowned. "Don't say that. It's vulgar."

He smiled apologetically and kept his mouth shut.

"It's about your friend," Dad interrupted. "The one you brought home the other day. Robert Ryan."

And honestly, he knew that too. "What about him?" he asked, in the same innocent tone.

"Apparently you told your teacher that he was... " Dad trailed off awkwardly and glanced at his mom.

"That his parents are too strict with him," she said and she seemed uncomfortable.

Danny took a deep breath. "No. I told her that Rusty's dad _hurts_ him."

They exchanged a long look.

"Really hurts him," Danny added. "He gave him that black eye."

Dad sighed. "I'm sorry, Danny." And he really did sound regretful. "Your friend was lying to you."

"No he wasn't," Danny said simply.

"Yes he was," Mom said sharply.

"No. He wasn't," Danny repeated.

"Look. We're not going to argue with you like this." He heard the frustration in Dad's voice and kept his face blank. "He confessed. Apparently he wanted you to feel sorry for him, so he made it all up."

The very last thing that Rusty _ever_ wanted was for Danny to feel sorry for him. He knew that as surely as he knew his own name. But he didn't think his parents would understand. He looked straight at Mom. "When we left him with his dad on Friday night, his dad beat him up. It was probably happening while we were walking down the stairs."

She looked back at him. "He was lying, Daniel. He was taking advantage of you. And this is why you shouldn't spend time with that kind of person."

"He was taking advantage of me?" Danny asked incredulously. Because that was close to being the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"You're young, Danny," Dad said with a sad smile. "Naïve. You'll learn not to fall for every chancer with a hard luck story."

"He's seven and he's got more bruises than skin! He never wanted to tell me, I made him! He lied to Principal Mallie, not to me!" The words fell out of him before he had any time to consider.

"Why would he lie, Daniel?" Mom pounced softly. "If he was telling the truth, why wouldn't he want help? Why wouldn't he tell someone himself? Why just you?"

And Danny had to pause. "He thinks he deserves it?" He could hear the uncertainty in his own voice, because he honestly didn't understand that part.

She smiled triumphantly. "Really?" she asked sceptically. "Why?"

Danny didn't have an answer. He knew what was real and what was true, but he couldn't even begin to explain why. "We have to help him," he said simply, and his voice was trembling, and really he was begging and he already knew it was all for nothing. " _Please_."

Mom shook her head. Dad looked away for a long moment. "Danny. You need to understand." He paused, awkwardly. "Maybe there are things in your friend's life that disturb you. Your mom told me about his home, and I'm sorry you had to see that. But you need to understand that you're very lucky. You've got everything you could want. Not everyone's that fortunate."

He wondered if either of them had any idea what he wanted.

"And you should be grateful," Mom cut in sharply. "I work hard to provide you with all this – "

" – _We_ work hard," Dad interrupted frowning.

"We work hard," she conceded, without missing a beat, "And the least you could do is be properly thankful and not constantly show us up in front of everyone."

He stared at the floor, his soul burning and didn't tell them that he'd never asked for what they gave him. He'd asked them to believe him. He'd asked them to help Rusty. And they'd said no.

After they left, he lay back on the bed and wondered if he was wrong. He saw Rusty walking around in pain and he wanted it to stop. But no-one else seemed to see what he saw – his parents, the teachers, Rusty himself. Maybe as far as the world was concerned it really wasn't a problem. Just part of life. Not a big deal; that was what Rusty had said. It's normal. Sometimes children need to be hurt to teach them a lesson.

He realised with surprise that there were tears in his eyes.

*

The sound of laughter woke Rusty up. He hadn't meant to fall asleep; he'd been reading the book Danny had leant him, waiting for his parents to get in. He crept closer to his bedroom door and leaned his ear against it. Giggling and glasses clinking. Sounded like they were drunk and in a happy mood. Normally he avoided them at times like this, because they'd be kissing and doing other things that made him uncomfortable. But he wasn't convinced that they weren't suddenly going to hear from Principal Mallie, and he needed to protect himself and make sure that they would tell the same story. And of course he'd be in trouble, and Dad would probably be angry, but he had broken the rules, so he kind of had it coming.

Taking a deep breath he pushed the door open. They broke apart and turned to stare at him in surprise. "I need to talk to you," he said quietly.

"Mommy and Daddy are busy right now. Come back later," Mom slurred. She lurched slightly towards him, waving her hand at his head. He didn't know if she was trying to slap him or pet him, but at any rate he stepped back warily.

"I was sent to the Principal today," he continued, satisfied that they were both just about capable of listening to him.

"What did you do now, you little shit?" Dad's voice was quiet in a way that sent a chill running down his spine and had him desperately trying to measure the distance to the front door. Not doable; they were in the way.

"She was asking about the bruises. I didn't tell anyone, I promise." And that was a lie, he supposed, but he didn't want to get Danny in trouble. No matter what, he couldn't do that.

Quicker than he would have thought possible, Dad stepped forwards and grabbed his hair and pulled him up, forcing him to stand on the very tips of his feet. He didn't cry out. Didn't struggle. Didn't whine. And he certainly didn't let any of the tears that gathered in his eyes fall. He could be good, if he tried. But still, for a few moments the pain was all there was and he wondered if it was possible for hair to bleed.

Dimly he heard his parents' bedroom door close. Mom must have got bored or upset or something and left the room. She did that a lot. Sometimes he thought that maybe she was scared of blood, like the girls in his class who screamed every time Toby Farr got a nosebleed.

Dad bent down, breathing in his face. "What did you tell her?"

"I said some big kids beat me up and threw me down the stairs," he managed to say, but he could hear the weakness in his own voice. The pain.

He was hauled just a little higher, and the pain was just a little worse and his feet scrabbled at the floor, trying to get a grip. "Stupid brat, they'll want to know who."

"Said I didn't see." His voice was shaking. "They don't know anything."

"They'd better not. Else they'll take you away. They'll take you away and lock you up and you'll never see sunlight again. They'll feed you on old kitchen scraps, when they happen to remember, and every time you fuck up – and you will fuck up, won't you, you useless bastard? Every time you fuck up they'll beat you senseless. No-one else would go soft on you, like I do." The threat was no less terrifying for being so often repeated. "Is that what you want?"

"No, Dad," he shook his head. It hurt.

"So what do you say?" Dad demanded.

"Thank you," he whispered. He hated this part. Because he understood that he was bad, he understood that, mostly, it was all his fault, but he wasn't thankful and he never would be.

"That's right. Ungrateful shit." He let go of Rusty's hair unexpectedly and Rusty fell to the floor in a painful heap.

He was on his feet almost immediately, before Dad had time to kick him more than once. He held himself still, waiting, looking Dad straight in the eye, and after an endless moment, Dad gave a vaguely approving grunt and headed to the bedroom.

Sagging with relief, Rusty grinned and headed to the kitchen. He'd get a glass of milk and some cereal or something and go back to his book. Because really, that could have gone a whole lot worse.

*

Danny had been looking forward to the last hour of the day. Because Rusty might have been able to dodge him before school and at morning break and at lunch, but it would be just a little bit difficult for him to hide during the hour of reading practice they shared. And he wanted the opportunity to talk - to try and put things right – because for the past week the world had suddenly seemed so much brighter and so much more interesting. He liked being with Rusty' it made him feel like he was more than he had been. And maybe he was the only one who felt that way, but somehow he doubted it. They weren't going to end like this. Not before they'd begun. He wasn't going to let them.

And so he leaned back in his chair and projected an air of relaxed calm while he waited for Rusty. He even managed to keep up the act as five minutes went by, then ten, and he began to feel just a little bit desperate inside. Rusty finally appeared, fifteen minutes late and escorted by Mrs Richards. He looked wary and trapped and though there were no new injuries that Danny could see he was clearly moving more stiffly than he had been before, as though he was compensating for pain that Danny could only guess at. And this was how life was supposed to be? He didn't even know how he was supposed to accept that.

Mrs Richards was glaring down at Rusty. "Now. What do you say to Daniel?" she asked sharply. Danny gritted his teeth and managed to keep his mouth shut.

Rusty stared down at the floor. "Sorry for wasting your time, Danny." he said very quietly and Danny could hear the humiliation and he hated it.

"That's right." Mrs Richards nodded approvingly and turned to look at Danny. "I am sorry that you had to wait, Daniel. _Someone_ ," And her voice turned arch and knowing, "Someone didn't want to come to his reading lesson."

Danny smiled at her. "That's perfectly all right, Mrs Richards. We'll be fine now." _Go away and leave us alone_ , he screamed mentally and Rusty looked up at him sharply.

She stood, hovering over the pair of them for a couple of moments before she made a clucking noise with her tongue and shook her head. "I'd better not have any more nonsense out of you for the rest of the afternoon, do you understand, Robert?"

Rusty nodded obediently and that seemed to satisfy her as she walked off to listen in to one of the other pairs.

There was a brief but awkward moment of silence.

Danny sighed. "Why don't you sit down?" he suggested.

Rusty did so and looked at him sharply. "I'm not really sorry."

"I wouldn't want you to be," Danny answered immediately. Rusty still looked wary and with a start, Danny realised that he couldn't force Rusty into anything. "We don't have to talk," he said, reluctantly. "We can just - "

Rusty was already nodding. " – pretend that we aren't – "

" – Yes," Danny agreed, and it hurt him. "Get your reading book out," he advised. They didn't want to attract anymore attention.

With a grimace, Rusty pulled out the book. 'Timmy Saves the Day'. It had a picture of a tiger wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket on the front.

Danny frowned at it. "You know what I don't get?"

"Why the tiger looks like the Fonz?" Rusty suggested.

"No," Danny shook his head, then looked closer at the book. "Though now you come to mention it . . . " There was a certain resemblance. "I don't get why these books are always about animals."

"Kids like animals," Rusty shrugged.

"Really." Danny considered this for a moment. "Huh."

"I don't get why they're never wearing pants," Rusty commented. Danny caught his eye and laughed, and immediately Rusty looked down at the book and flipped it to the first page. Right. Nothing was ever going to be that easy.

Mrs Richards drifted closer and Rusty immediately started reading, theatrically stumbling over random words until Danny's quiet voice gave him the answer. Such a stupid game they were playing and Rusty refused to look at him for the rest of the time.

It wasn't until the bell rang and Rusty was stuffing the book back in his bag as quickly as possible that Danny managed to bring himself to quietly say "I had to try."

For a moment it looked as though Rusty was going to say something. Just for a moment. And then he turned and ran out the door.

*

Rusty had never actually had a detention before. Not a proper one. From time to time he'd been kept in over break or lunch, but that had mostly been attempts to help him with his reading problems, or to try and trick him into admitting the truth about how he'd got hurt. This was a new experience, and it wasn't one he was particularly looking forward to.

He was still breathing hard from running away from Danny when he settled into his seat at the back of the classroom. It had been as difficult as he'd thought. He'd known perfectly well that the moment he looked at Danny he'd lose. ( _Or win_.) It wasn't even a case of immediately forgiving him, the moment they'd been together it had been like there was nothing that could ever need forgiven. And he just didn't know how to cope with that, so he'd pretended and he knew that he'd hurt Danny. He wasn't supposed to need people. People weren't supposed to need him. People weren't supposed to _see_ him. And try as he might, he couldn't figure out what Danny was getting out of this.

Someone sat down at the next desk and he didn't need to look round. He already knew who it was.

"What'd you do?" he asked Danny.

"This and that. Talking in class, not handing in homework, turning my worksheet into a paper crane, telling Freddy he doesn't have the brains of a dead caterpillar..."

"To be fair, I think he does have the brains of a dead caterpillar," Rusty pointed out.

Danny laughed. "How about you? What did you do?"

"Lied to you," he said simply.

There was a pause. "Ironic," Danny commented.

Mr Green swept into the room and they both shut up and succeeded in looking attentive while he handed out pencil and paper and wrote "I will show respect for my teachers, my peers and myself whilst in the school setting" on the blackboard.

"You will copy that out for the entire hour. And if I hear any talking there will be trouble," he said, looking round the classroom. Most of the kids looked resigned.

Rusty waited until Mr Green had settled himself at the teacher's desk with a pile of marking. Then, without really stopping to consider it, he scribbled " _Why_?" on a sheet of paper and passed it over to Danny.

He didn't look round. But he could feel Danny looking at him for a long time. Finally the paper was passed back to him. " _Because it's wrong_."

The words stared up at him, there in black and white, and he wondered how Danny could make it sound so simple. "It's not that bad," he whispered.

Danny stared at him. "I saw you on Saturday, remember?" He did remember, and more than that he remembered the look in Danny's eyes. The pain and the anger that he'd instinctively understood would never ever be aimed at him. It had hurt.

"I'm almost better now," he pointed out. "The bruises are nearly all gone." At any rate they were fading nicely.

"And you've got some new ones, haven't you?" Danny whispered savagely, and Rusty wondered how he could possibly know.

He sighed. "It was just because – "

" – Because I told, right?" Danny interrupted.

"Yes," he admitted.

"I'm sorry," Danny said, very, very quietly.

Rusty blinked. "Why?" he asked again.

"I don't want you hurt." Danny's voice was soft and intense and he plainly meant every word.

"It's my own fault," Rusty reassured him. "I never learn my lesson."

He watched, fascinated as Danny gripped the edge of the desk so tight his knuckles whitened. "No. It's not your fault. I'll never believe that there's anything you could do that would make this right."

"It's just the way the world works," he explained wearily. Nothing was going to change, no matter what Danny said or did.

"Yes," Danny agreed, to his surprise. Then he turned round and smiled straight at Rusty. "And I don't want any part of it," he said out loud and every head in the classroom turned to stare at them.

Even as Mr Green started yelling at them, Rusty continued to stare at Danny. Because just for a moment he thought that maybe his friend could change their world.

*

They walked out of detention together. Danny wasn't exactly sure how, but somehow everything seemed to be sorted. Except, even at the risk of ruining everything, he had to make one thing clear. "I'm not going to stop trying to make them listen," he told Rusty seriously.

Rusty nodded and looked unsurprised. "I wasn't expecting you to." He sounded amused.

"You don't think – " he started and Rusty agreed.

" – No-one cares, Danny," Rusty smiled at him.

And of course Danny wanted to be able to argue, but honestly so far it seemed as though Rusty was right. "Doesn't make it right," he said quietly and watched the look of puzzlement on Rusty's face. "It's not right," he repeated, emphatically.

Rusty shrugged but didn't seem in the mood to argue. They walked in contented silence to the school gate where a small crowd was gathered. Danny recognised several of the boys from his class and sighed. Somehow, he didn't think that this was going to be fun.

"With the baby again, Danny?" Freddy pushed his way to the front.

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "What do you want, Freddy?" he asked.

Freddy ignored him. "You know, I thought you were cool. But you're just stuck up, and I'm going to teach you a lesson."

Right. This. Nothing he hadn't dealt with before, and it wasn't like his parents weren't used to getting complaints about him fighting, even if he really didn't see the point of it. He dropped his bag on the edge of the circle that had quickly formed, and with a stern glance, told Rusty to keep out of it. The incredulous look that he received back wasn't exactly reassuring, but he turned back to Freddy. "OK. Let's get this over with."

Freddy looked a little startled but immediately put up his fists and started dancing around a little. The crowd started to cheer. Danny just looked at him.

"What's the matter, Danny? Scared?" Freddy taunted.

This time Danny did roll his eyes. "I said get it over with," he answered and when Freddy lunged forwards, swinging wildly, he grinned. Except that quickly stopped when out of nowhere – really, Danny hadn't even seen him – Rusty stepped forwards and in front of him and the punch that was vaguely aimed at Danny's chest caught the side of Rusty's head.

There was silence. Freddy dropped his fists and took a step back. Rusty stumbled but didn't fall. Danny turned to look at him. There were several things he wanted to say, most of them some variation of the word 'idiot'. Instead he just stared for a long moment, until Rusty stood up straight and gave a half smile.

Danny shrugged and shook his head, and turned back to Freddy with a wide grin.

Freddy took another step backwards. "I didn't see him. It's not my fault."

Danny nodded thoughtfully. Then he drew back his fist and punched Freddy as hard as he could.

Clutching his nose, blood trickling out from between his fingers, Freddy staggered back. "I'm telling!" he said loudly, sounding on the brink of tears.

"That wouldn't be a good idea," Rusty said casually.

"In fact it would be a very bad idea," Danny agreed.

"I mean, fighting is still against the school rules, isn't it?" Rusty asked Danny.

"Definitely," Danny answered. "And teachers always get everyone involved in trouble, not just the winner."

"Not to mention he hit me – " Rusty added.

Danny nodded. " – And you're only a little kid – " he said sarcastically. Might as well take advantage of what they had.

" – Exactly," Rusty grinned.

"They call that bullying, normally," Danny smiled. Freddy looked pale. "Leave us alone," Danny told him sweetly and the boy scrambled away.

Rusty looked slightly surprised. "Well."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. They'd need to wait to see if that would be the end of it. Sooner or later people would get the point. They were together now and nothing was going to stop them.

*

Rusty faced his parents. Dad was brandishing a letter from the school, informing them that he'd lied to a fellow student about his home life. "I didn't tell. He guessed," he told them.

"First you bring that boy here, then you lie to him about us?" Dad snarled. "You stay away from him, you hear me, you little shit?"

He closed his eyes. "No."

The fist that slammed into his face almost knocked him over. But he'd been prepared for it, and he managed to keep his balance. "You do as I say."

And maybe it was bad, and maybe it was stupid, but he wasn't going to give up Danny. Not for anything. "I won't tell him anything," he said. His voice steady and he was surprised to realise that he was lying. "But he's my friend."

"Why would anyone want to be friends with a stupid bastard like you?" Dad asked, almost pleasantly

Rusty grinned. "No idea," he admitted, and wasn't at all surprised when fresh pain blossomed on his ear. He hadn't even seen that one coming. "But he is," he managed to say.

Dad stared at him, obviously puzzled. "Just leave him, Robert," Mom mumbled and to his surprise Dad did back off.

"Don't let me catch him around here. And if I even think that you've been telling lies again . . . " He left the threat dangling.

Rusty nodded. "I'll be good. I promise."

*

Danny faced his parents. "But I like it there," he told them. This was the earliest they'd ever started talking about taking him out of a school. And he wasn't going to stand for it.

Mom sighed. "You're falling under all sorts of bad influences. I think a fresh start – "

" – No," he interrupted. "Not going to happen."

She frowned. "You'll do what you're told."

Quickly Danny made a decision. "Look. I like it here. I'm making friends. I'm going to do better."

"What do you mean?" Dad sounded curious. Well, they'd never heard this before.

He looked them straight in the eyes and concentrated on sounding sincere. Because this was important. "I'm going to start working hard. I'm going to get good grades. Stop getting in trouble. No more fights. No more insolence." He bit his lip. "No more embarrassing you. If you let me stay." It was a good deal. He could put up with a lot, in order to stay. Putting on an act; it would be easy. And he'd get to stay with Rusty.

His parents exchanged a long look. "Well, perhaps a few more months and we'll see," Dad offered. Mom looked sceptical. Well, he'd show her.

He nodded. "I'll be good. I promise."

*

Danny was sitting on the edge of the fountain when Rusty arrived. They looked at each other for a long moment, reading pain and misery and determination and for a second the future stretched out in front of them, clear as anything.

"Ready to have some fun?"

"Always."

A shared grin, a shared thought, a shared plan and the world had never been so full of wonder. They could glimpse a far brighter life and it was worth any sacrifice.


	17. Sunshine, Smiles, and Sweet, Sweet Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In the Beginning Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 13 &14) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 2\. Neverending Conversation Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 15 & 16) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 3\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
> 4.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 5\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 6\. Sunshine, Smiles and Sweet, Sweet Words (Chapter 17) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 7\. View from the Outside (Chapter 12) Rusty is 11, Danny is 14  
> 8\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 9\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 10\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 11\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 12\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 13\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
> 14\. Such a Perfect Day (Chapter 11) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

By the time they arrived the fair was in full swing, full of gaudy lights, excited people and tinny music. Looked like fun. They'd meant to get here early, but Rusty had let him sleep in. In the last few days his parents had somehow got louder and seemed to have given up on needing sleep. As long as they were hurting each other that seemed to be enough, and they'd pretty much forgotten he existed. Not that he necessarily objected to the lack of ideas such as 'bedtime', or 'curfew' or 'homework', but when concepts like 'dinner' and 'good morning' and 'silence' went out the window, he chose to run to Rusty's and stay there for a bit. Which was fine, for once. Rusty's dad had got a new job and had left Rusty with a couple of dollars, a couple of bruises, and a promise that he'd be on the road till next week. And that was fantastic, and they'd stayed up roasting marshmallows over a candle, and Rusty had tried to show him that shuffling trick he'd taught himself to do, only Danny had completely failed to get the hang of it, and the deck had pretty much exploded, showering cards all over the room, and they'd laughed and there'd been no yelling and no reason to be scared and it had been perfect.

But they had meant to get there early in order to look around properly, and now there were people everywhere. They had to stop sharply to avoid walking into a boy – maybe two or three years older than Danny, tall and dressed tough – and his mother, who was wiping at his face with a handkerchief. "Now, Sam, I don't see your friends anywhere about. Are you sure you're going to be all right on your own?"

"I'm fine, mom. I told you. I'm meeting the guys inside." He sounded embarrassed, and it occurred to Danny that he'd probably arranged to meet his friends inside to avoid them meeting his mother. He caught Rusty's eye, and they shared the thought that at least they never needed to worry about being publicly humiliated by their parents.

The mother kept talking. "Don't eat too much candy. And don't go on the fast rides, you know they make you sick."

Danny bit his lip. Rusty's shoulders shook. The boy noticed them looking and reddened threateningly. They quickly walked round the pair and headed inside the fairground.

They stood for a long moment, looking round, and Danny could feel himself smiling. Sights and sounds and opportunities, awash in the blazing sunshine. And them with the football team's money in their pockets. "What do you want to do first?" he asked, but when he glanced over, Rusty's eyes were already fixed on the nearest hotdog stand.

"Mustard and ketchup and onions," he replied dreamily.

Danny blinked. "It's eleven in the morning."

Rusty just looked at him.

"We just had breakfast," he pointed out.

"It was just cold cereal," Rusty answered. "That doesn't count."

"You practically live on cereal," Danny sighed, but he willingly followed Rusty over and joined the queue. "We're just going to be eating all day, aren't we?"

Rusty shook his head. "There's also rides, remember?" He looked past Danny, and up, and Danny turned and saw the very top of a frighteningly rickety looking rollercoaster.

"No," he said firmly. "Not a chance."

"You'll enjoy it," Rusty assured him.

"Rus', it looks like it'd fall apart if you breathed on it."

Rusty shrugged. "Don't breathe," he suggested. They reached the front of the queue and Rusty smiled up at the man. "Two hotdogs, please."

Danny actually opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't hungry, before he realised and shut up. Rusty shot him an amused glance and gave him one hotdog to hold while he lathered the other in ketchup and mustard.

"That is disgusting." Danny said with feeling.

Rusty nodded. "But delicious," he added, as he handed the sauce-smothered hotdog to Danny while he prepared to do the same to the next one.

It all happened fast, but Danny was almost certain that it hadn't been deliberate on Rusty's part. Not that he _wouldn't_ , just that he probably _hadn't_. An arm came reaching over Rusty's shoulder, and an annoyed voice – "Stop hogging the mustard, kid," and Danny saw Rusty tense up, and he saw him not flinch, and he saw him let go of the mustard, but not quite in time, and he watched as an arc of sunshine yellow goo flew through the air and deposited itself all over the boy's shirt. The same boy from outside, actually. Sam, or something. Well. He'd wanted mustard.

Rusty turned round immediately, all awkward apologies and complete neutrality, amusement buried almost too far down for even Danny to see it. But Danny had never achieved quite that level of self-control; he laughed. Oh, he managed to choke it back almost immediately, but the look on the boy's face – that shell shocked expression – and there was even a glob of yellow sitting on top of his _hair_. How could he help it?

Sam's expression hardened, and he took a step towards them. Danny looked round and Rusty looked back at him and they came to an unspoken conclusion and ran as fast as possible.

They dodged past surprised gawkers, swung round the back of stalls, hurtled past queues and didn't stop until they were round behind the House of Illusion, out of breath and absolutely confident that they'd lost him. After all, together and individually, they'd shaken off far more persistent pursuers in their time.

Danny sat, trying to get his breath back, and watched companionably as Rusty finished his first hotdog, licked the remains of the ketchup from his fingers and started in on the plain one. He took one bite, grimaced and threw it away. "Not the same without mustard," he explained.

"You put too much on," Danny remarked.

Rusty shook his head seriously. "If you can taste the sausage, there's not enough mustard."

"You ever think about what goes in those things?" Danny wondered innocently.

"Never while I'm eating them."

*

The House of Illusion was something of a disappointment. Not that Danny had any idea exactly what he'd been expecting, but something more than a few shape distorting mirrors, a couple of pictures where the eyes moved and a guy in a white sheet who leapt out and yelled "Boo!" In fact, they were just heading out, having exhausted all the possibilities that watching other kids pulling faces in the mirror had to offer, when they walked smack into Juliet Darcey, her daughter and goddaughter dragged along in her wake.

She smiled tightly at them. Well, at Danny. "Good morning, Daniel. How are you keeping?"

He smiled back at her. "Very well, thank you Mrs Darcey." Behind her back he could see Annette and Celeste nudging each other, pointing at him and giggling. Interesting.

"And your mother? I've not spoken to her in a while. How is she holding up?" Her eyes were narrowed eagerly.

"She's fine," he told her, keeping it short. Obviously that particular train wreck was the latest piece of gossip.

"And your father?" Again the eagerness.

"Also fine, thank you. I'll let them know you were asking after them." Them. Make it sound like he had a chance of being in the same room with the pair of them and being able to carry out a conversation.

Danny noticed the disappointment in her face. Most people probably wouldn't have. "That's good. Thank you." Her gaze swept over to Rusty and there was the usual vague spasm of disapproval. "But they're not with you? You're on your own?"

That was self-evident, he'd have thought. "We're meeting up with my uncle later," he lied.

She nodded and looked satisfied and disappointed again. Gossip must be slow right now. "And you've been in the same school for quite some time now and from what I hear, you've not caused too much trouble. Well done. Must be _such_ a relief to your poor parents, not to have to worry about you on top of everything else." She smiled at him. Sweet like cyanide. "Honestly, if one didn't know, one could almost think that you were . . . " She trailed off, mock apologies fluttering in her voice. Danny heard the end of the sentence anyway. 'One could almost think that you were a normal, respectable young man.'

He smiled at her and inwardly seethed. He hadn't had so much as a detention in two years, but just like his mom she'd take any excuse to bring up his less than spotless childhood. Things were different now. They didn't get caught. "Thank you," he said politely.

Rusty stepped up to his shoulder. "Danny? We said we'd meet your uncle at the bumper cars. We don't want to be late." On the surface his voice was filled with apology and sincerity. Beneath, Danny could hear concern and protective anger.

He nodded and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry Mrs. Darcey. We need to be going. I'll be sure to remember you to my mother." Though he'd far rather forget. He smiled dazzlingly at the girls. "Bye Annette. See you in school Celeste." They burst out into a fresh round of giggling and he and Rusty took advantage of the moment to slip away before Mrs Darcey had finished glaring at them.

As they walked away Rusty glanced back over his shoulder repeatedly, to Danny's amusement. "I don't think she's going to follow us," he pointed out.

"You never know," Rusty frowned darkly.

Danny nodded and let it go. "You want to – "

Rusty was already starting to smile. " – do something – "

" – More fun?" he finished and Rusty nodded.

They headed to where the excited screams were loudest.

*

The bumper cars had been fun, if a little difficult. Still, what they'd lacked in steering skills they'd made up for in teamwork and they'd been responsible for three pile-ups. Which he figured was a good thing, although reversing out afterwards had been tricky.

Now they were staring up at the roller coaster and Danny's heart was in his mouth. It really was pretty high. And he couldn't help but think that it was probably at least ten years old and was dismantled and rebuilt at least three times a month. He stole a sideways glance at Rusty. Wide-eyed and dripping ice-cream onto his fingers. He sighed; they were going to do this.

Rusty looked round. "We don't have to," he said simply.

"I'm not scared," Danny replied immediately.

Rusty looked slightly amused. "It's you and it's me. Who's to impress?"

No-one. And he wasn't. "Thought you were supposed to confront the things that scare you," he pointed out.

There was a pause. "What scares you most? In the world?" Rusty asked, entirely serious.

Danny looked at him and thought about one punch too many, and about the faded scars on Rusty's arm, and about the possibility that one morning he'd wake up and he'd be alone, and said nothing.

Rusty blinked and bit his lip and said nothing for a long moment. "Do you really want to confront that?"

"This isn't that," Danny pointed out bluntly and he turned and stared at the rollercoaster. Okay. So it didn't go that high. Not really. And it had stayed standing all this time. Probably it wouldn't fall down while they were on it.

"So you want to – "

" – definitely." He didn't want them to not do something for such a stupid reason.

Rusty studied him for a long, long moment and he met the gaze and didn't blink or turn away. Eventually they grinned at each other and strolled into the end of the queue.

"I hate waiting in line," Rusty complained lightly.

"Patience," Danny said with a smile.

"We have none," Rusty agreed.

The line in front of them got shorter and shorter. And as they got closer to the front the screams got louder, and they seemed to stop sounding excited and start sounding terrified.

"I'll hold your hand if you like," Rusty offered.

Danny didn't look at him. "Thanks. No."

The man took their money and waved them on. Danny found himself wishing that Rusty had been deemed too short. They found a seat around the middle of the train, and the man walked up and down, pulling bars down over them and Danny snuck a look sideways. Because heights weren't exactly his thing, but being trapped wasn't exactly Rusty's.

"I'm good," Rusty assured him immediately. "You?"

The ride started. "It'd be a problem if I said no, wouldn't it?"

It wasn't so bad. Just chugging its way to the top. And then the sky loomed over them and then the ground came rushing up to meet them and it was worse than flying and people were screaming and Rusty was laughing.

He turned round. "If I die, you're haunting me," he shouted.

"Probably," Rusty yelled back, grinning, and as the carriage thundered into a corkscrew turn, Danny reached out and grabbed Rusty's hand tightly, and neither of them said a word about it.

It came as a surprise when the ride ended and up wasn't quite where he thought it should be. He flopped down onto the ground. Rusty sat beside him. "Want to go again?"

He considered for a moment. Because there had been fear. And yet . . . "Definitely."

*

They'd been heading for the Ferris Wheel when they'd seen Sam at the front of the queue. What was more, he'd seen them and he'd scowled and started towards them, before the group of friends he was with bundled him on to the ride. By common consent they'd moved away from the rides for a bit. Just until the kid forgot he'd seen them.

Instead they were investigating the possibilities that lunch had to offer, and unsurprisingly the moment they'd stepped among the food stalls, he'd completely lost track of Rusty. He settled down on a patch of open grass and picked at his fried chicken. He could wait.

Ten minutes later Rusty appeared, flushed and happy and holding a large carton of french fries and a . . .

"What is that?" He had to ask. He just had to.

"Pie on a stick!" Rusty explained cheerfully.

Danny blinked. "What?"

"It's pie. But it's on a stick!" He took a bite. "Cherry," he added helpfully.

"Huh." Danny contemplated the pie on a stick before turning to look at his own food with a slight feeling of dissatisfaction.

Rusty's eyes lit up. "Is that fried chicken? Can I have some?"

Danny looked at him thoughtfully and slid the carton over. "Would I ever say no?"

"Probably wouldn't be pretty if you did," Rusty agreed and handed him the pie on a stick.

He managed to stop grinning long enough to take a bite. It was nice. "Not as good as Mabel's."

"But on a stick," Rusty answered immediately and it was obvious that he felt as though Danny was missing the point somewhat.

They finished their food in silence. Danny even managed to steal a couple of fries.

"Hey, Danny?" Rusty said lazily. "I think they've got spaghetti and meatballs on a stick."

Danny frowned. "Since when did you – "

" – I don't. But it's on a stick."

"Okay." He kind of wanted to see that for himself anyway.

*

The hoopla game was rigged. That was completely obvious from the start. And yet it still didn't stop them spending nearly three dollars trying to win the digital watch. Danny managed to get the ring just on the edge a couple of times. Rusty knocked over the vase next to the watch. That was the point when they decided that they were throwing their money away. And fairly badly at that.

"Our talents lie elsewhere," Rusty mused, leaning back against the counter as Danny tried his luck at the shooting range.

"The angle was impossible," Danny pointed out, missing five ducks in a row. This was slightly embarrassing.

"Yeah, but if the game's rigged then you need to cheat, right?" Rusty looked round and watched carefully as Danny missed the next set of ducks. He grinned and put another couple of quarters down. "Like if the gun sight is squint, you stop trying to hit the ducks dead centre and aim . . ." He frowned thoughtfully. "Two inches to the right."

The stall owner glared at them. Danny looked at Rusty for a moment. Then he picked up the gun and tried again. Five shots, three ducks. Oh, that was more like it. He grinned as the stall owner scowled and sourly handed him a large plushy rabbit.

"Little scary," Rusty commented as they walked away. "It's cross-eyed."

"It's trying to see you coming from both sides. So it can work it's evil," Danny said solemnly.

Rusty appeared to give this all due consideration. "The cuddly toy is evil?"

"Aren't they all?" Danny frowned suddenly. "What am I going to do with a two foot long rabbit?"

"Don't you like it?" Rusty asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Danny just looked at him. "Think I outgrew cuddly toys a while back, Rus'. Mom gave mine to the Goodwill a couple of years ago."

"I had a teddy bear once. Mom set fire to it when I was five." Rusty was laughing. Danny couldn't quite see the funny. Rusty obviously noticed him looking and shrugged impatiently. "Anyway, the point is that you've won it. Doesn't matter what you do with it after that." He suddenly looked past Danny. "Why don't you give it away?"

Danny followed his gaze and saw Annette and Celeste. Standing on their own, admiring a display of gaudy costume jewellery. Oh. Right. "I'll just – " he began.

Rusty nodded. " – I'm going to go get some cotton candy. See you later."

With a couple of deep breaths ( _which had nothing to do with nervousness. Nothing at all._ ) he sauntered up behind the girls. "Lost your chaperone?"

They jumped and spun round and giggled. It was surprisingly co-ordinated. "Hi, Danny," Annette said shyly.

Celeste's attention was immediately drawn to the rabbit. "Oh! Did you win that?" Her voice was admiring and Danny felt himself smiling.

"Uh huh. Do you like it?"

"She's gorgeous." _She_? Why was the rabbit a girl?

"Then it's yours." He handed it over with a flourish and watched her blush and coo over it.

"Thank you, Danny," she smiled broadly at him and Annette giggled.

"Where is Mrs. Darcey, anyway?" he asked. Because he really didn't want to risk her suddenly appearing behind him.

"She had to stop for a rest and a cup of tea, and she wanted to talk to Mrs. Williams about Mr. Williams' secretary," Annette explained, and Danny could tell that she didn't really understand what she was saying. Which was good. "She won't notice we've gone for at least another ten minutes."

"Time for me to buy you two an ice-cream then?" he suggested.

They giggled. Again.

*

He cut off Rusty's apologies with a look before they'd even begun. Partly because it really didn't bother him, partly because it hadn't especially been Rusty's fault, but mostly because when Rusty was struggling so hard not to laugh, he kind of doubted the sincerity.

Pulling a fistful of cotton candy off his shirt, he sighed. Should have seen this coming. Cotton candy? Fine. Ride called the Revolutioniser? Great. Both of them together? Really, really not clever. But Annette and Celeste had been so awestruck in their descriptions, and when they'd said that Mrs. Darcey hadn't let them go on, how could Danny resist? They'd headed back to the refreshment tent, and Danny had run to find Rusty and dragged him to find the ride. And they'd seen it, and it had looked so awesome, and they hadn't even given a thought to the cotton candy Rusty was still clutching. But as soon as the spinning-upside down fun had started, it had flown off the stick. All over Danny.

"I'm – " Rusty began again.

Danny shook his head. " – don't. I'm going to go and get cleaned up."

Rusty nodded and took a bite out of the cotton candy he had left. Danny sighed again and headed off to find the restroom block.

He managed to get most of the stickiness out eventually. Well, some of it. Enough that he didn't feel like a complete idiot. But when he got back to where he'd left Rusty, Rusty was nowhere to be seen. And that was odd.

Ten minutes of methodical searching and he was getting worried. And then he turned a corner and saw Sam and saw his four friends, and saw that they had Rusty surrounded, pinned against the wall, and worried became frantic.

He crept closer, thinking desperately.

"Gonna teach you to laugh at me, you little shit," Sam's voice was harsh and Danny was close enough now to see the blankness in Rusty's eyes and hate it.

And yet Rusty's voice was still amused and didn't tremble. "Don't need any help with that, thanks. You make it easy."

Sam's hand flew back and Danny was never going to stand and watch that happen. "What do you think you're doing, boy?" he bellowed, and he made his voice deeper and older, and he put every last inch of four years of righteous fury into it.

It worked; the boys sprang back and whirled round to face him, but he only waited until Rusty – who was always going to be able to recover faster than those idiots – squirmed past them before they both started running.

"Thanks!" Rusty yelled across to him, as they dodged through the crowds, thundering footsteps and angry shouts sounding mere feet behind them, and Danny couldn't help but think that this was how they'd started the day.

He just looked at Rusty, with an expression designed to convey just how ridiculous – and insulting - it was to be thanked for that kind of thing. "How'd they – "

" – they were looking."

Danny considered this, and kept running. "Guess – "

" – all the fun of the fair – " Rusty agreed.

" – just not enough," Danny concluded.

"Sad," Rusty nodded, and they dodged between a couple of stalls, leapt through a pile of cardboard boxes and severely vexed a woman holding a chicken.

They paused for breath; they couldn't see the boys, but they could still hear them and Danny looked round desperately for a hiding place. "In here," he said finally, and dragged Rusty into a photo booth.

Breathing hard they huddled together on the bench for a few minutes, before Rusty dropped a quarter into the mechanism and turned to Danny with a serious expression. "Got a comb?"

Danny started laughing, and Rusty grinned back and the flashes took them by surprise.

"Why don't people ever seem to like us?" Danny complained, lightly.

"Most people love us," Rusty pointed out. "Guess he didn't think that mustard went with that shirt."

Danny grinned and listened hard. Nothing. But still.

"Few more minutes," Rusty agreed.

"Want to go back and try and get that watch?" Danny suggested.

Rusty frowned. "Good money after bad?"

Danny held up a wallet. "Since Sam's paying . . . "

Rusty held up a different wallet. "His friend made a contribution too."

Perfect. They'd been running short on funds. He pulled the curtain back and looked round cautiously. No sign. Rusty followed him out, and Danny stared back at the machine as it dispensed the little strip of photos, half tempted, half reluctant. Because he kind of wanted them, but he knew he shouldn't. He was thirteen; he wasn't supposed to be soppy.

Rusty stopped and turned back with a frown. He blinked when he realised what Danny was looking at. "Oh yeah." Carefully he folded the strip of photos and put them away in his pocket and Danny felt a tiny stab of disappointment.

*

They noticed the crowd around the stall and the man with the cards as they were heading back to the hoopla stand, and they stopped to watch. Find the Lady, and he could tell Rusty was entranced. They watched the man shuffle the deck, watched him lay out the cards, watched as time after time people picked the wrong one. And Danny watched Rusty and he saw the intensity and the concentration and the learning, and he idly thought that the next time his Uncle Ed came over the man was going to get _fleeced_.

Of course, Danny was more than a little alarmed when Rusty stepped forwards, slipped into his wide-eyed and precocious routine, and said "I know how you do that."

The dealer paused and looked at Rusty, and Danny could see the measurement and the calculation. "There's no trick to it, boy."

"Yes there is," Rusty insisted, with just the hint of a lisp, and Danny could see the crowd smiling and listening to him. "It's a cheat." Not good. But everything in their private language said 'Keep out; I've got it covered', and if he didn't trust that he didn't have anything, so Danny stood and watched and worried.

"You're a smart one, aren't you?" The man's voice was amused. His eyes weren't. "Why don't you give it a try and we'll see what happens?"

Rusty nodded, and the crowd parted and let him put his money down. And Danny had been watching, and he could see that when the cards were laid out, when they were switched round, it was different than before. He couldn't quite see how, but there was some subtle difference. Finally the man stopped. "So where do you think the Queen is, boy?" And he was staring straight at Rusty and there was both challenge and appreciation in the look.

Immediately Rusty tapped the card on the centre, and the man turned it over to reveal the Queen of Hearts. The crowd sighed, contentedly.

"See? No trick," the man said loudly. "Anyone can win, if their eyes are quick, right boy?"

"Right," Rusty lied with a grin in his voice.

"And here's your prize!" The man shoved a plastic bag into Rusty's hand and Danny almost choked. "Step right up! So easy a child can win!"

Danny waited until Rusty walked back over before he fixed him with a steady stare. "And now we have a goldfish," he stated.

Rusty looked down at the little fish, swimming contentedly in the plastic bag. "You think I didn't think this through, don't you?"

"It's a fish," Danny pointed out. Because it might be obvious, but there was no harm in cutting to the root of the problem.

"I think he's cute," Rusty held the bag up in front of his face. "See? He's looking at me."

"It's a fish," Danny repeated. "What are you going to do with it?"

Rusty ignored him, more or less. "We'll need a fishbowl. I wonder if I can train him to come when he's called?"

"No. You can't Because it's a fish." Danny could be patient.

"Think I'm going to call him Captain Flash," Rusty said thoughtfully.

Capt . . . Danny blinked. "Okay. New rule. You don't get to name anything, ever."

"We're not really good at sticking to rules," Rusty pointed out.

"Rus'" And this time Danny's voice was gentle. "You can't keep him at your place."

"I know that," Rusty said, after barely a fraction of a second's pause. "He wouldn't be safe."

"And my parents have always said no pets," Danny added.

"He's just a fish," Rusty said quietly. "Maybe they wouldn't notice?"

Maybe. And he couldn't say no. Not really. "We'll give it a shot," he promised and Rusty turned round and smiled at him happily.

And that was when Sam stepped up behind them and, with a laugh, knocked the plastic bag out of Rusty's hand. Water and fish spilled everywhere and they stared down in horror as Captain Flash stopped flopping.

Danny looked over at Rusty, words of commiseration and comfort on his lips, along with the word 'run', but he saw Rusty's expression shift from the neutrality of shock and anger to the neutrality of plotting, and he'd been looking at something just over Danny's shoulder. He risked a quick look behind him and his eyes widened in brief recognition before he turned back to Rusty and signaled his agreement.

"He killed my fish!" Rusty said, loudly and clearly on the brink of tears. Everyone in the vicinity immediately stopped and looked round at them, and they – and Sam and his friends – found themselves in the centre of a widening circle. "He did it deliberately! Captain Flash was my fish and he killed him."

Sam laughed and looked round at his friends. "Look at the little baby, crying over a dead goldfish," he crowed, and Danny had the satisfaction of watching him pale as his mother stepped out of the crowd.

"Samuel Archibald Harrison, I'm ashamed of you!" And while no-one was looking, Danny took the opportunity to turn round to Rusty and mouth 'Archibald?' and see the answering echo of amusement. "You apologise to this child immediately, do you hear me? I didn't raise you to be a bully."

"Sorry," Sam muttered, looking anything but. Rusty carried on sniffling, his bottom lip wobbling, and the crowd's sympathies were very much on his side. And that was Danny's cue.

He threw a comforting arm around Rusty's shoulder, and he glared at Sam. "Don't mention it," he bit off, and then he turned to Sam's mother. "Sorry. He's been a bit emotional ever since . . . " he trailed off, and patted Rusty's arm, and grimaced in true embarrassed-older-brother fashion.

Sympathy and understanding flooded her face, and he wondered idly exactly what traumatic story she was using to fill in the blanks. "Oh, dear," she breathed.

Not quite enough. Rusty turned a woebegone look up at Danny. "He killed my fish." And his voice cracked, just a little.

"There, there," Danny comforted, and the crowd tutted disapprovingly, and as one they glared at Sam.

"Oh, dear," Sam's mother said again, and she reached for her purse and pulled out ten dollars. "Here." They made no move to take it. "Please. Think of it as my son's allowance for the next couple of months. Buy a new fish . . . or something. Let me make amends. _Please_."

Hesitantly Danny reached out and took the money. "Thank you, ma'am," he said sincerely, and it wasn't exactly a con after all.

She turned her attention to her son. "Just wait till I get you home." Sam shuffled his feet and hung his head and she looked past him towards his friends. "And don't think your parents won't be hearing about this."

Danny looked at Rusty and they quietly vanished into the ground.

"I'm sorry about Captain Flash," Danny said after a moment.

Rusty shrugged. "It was a fish," he said unwillingly. "We couldn't have kept the stupid thing anyway."

Danny reached out and squeezed his arm, and Rusty walked a step closer and they didn't need to say anything.

"Want a hotdog?" Danny suggested, noticing the stall that they'd been at that morning.

"Sure." Rusty didn't sound particularly enthusiastic and Danny winced.

Still he walked up and he asked for two hotdogs, and he opened his wallet and he froze. Because there was something in his wallet that shouldn't be there. Something that hadn't been there earlier. Something that he hadn't put there. With trembling fingers he pulled out the little strip of photos. Two children ( _and he wondered if he always looked that young, and he knew that Rusty never did_.) hunched together on the narrow bench. Sticky with cotton candy. Giddy with laughter. Bright. Happy. Shining.

He looked round immediately, ignoring the hotdog vendor trying to get his attention, and he knew his face was asking the question, but Rusty just shrugged and wouldn't meet his eyes. And a thousand words bubbled up inside him; about friendship, and family, and love and forever; but Rusty looked away and Danny felt the moment slip away, frustrated.

But when they sat on the grass, eating their hotdogs, idly watching the people go by, Danny casually brushed his arm against Rusty's, and Rusty turned round and smiled at him, bright like the sun, and Danny thought that maybe there were other ways of saying thank you. ( _other ways of saying 'I love you.'_ )


	18. Six Months of Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In the Beginning Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 13 &14) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 2\. Neverending Conversation Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 15 & 16) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 3\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
> 4.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 5\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 6\. Sunshine, Smiles and Sweet, Sweet Words (Chapter 17) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 7\. View from the Outside (Chapter 12) Rusty is 11, Danny is 14  
> 8\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 9\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 10\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 11\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 12\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 13\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
> 14\. Such a Perfect Day (Chapter 11) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

The thing was, he really never did lie to her, not even at the very end, when he stood in front of her, awkward and uncomfortable, with the fear of the night before still clinging to him, and the endless determination still newly singing in his veins, and the blood still staining his shirt. She'd asked and he didn't answer and she asked again and he told the truth and walked away.

*

Later, Rusty told him he'd made the wrong choice. Danny couldn't see what else he could have done. Not without losing something more important. Not without losing himself.

They shared two classes together; they'd been in the same school for six years; he knew they'd talked, from time to time; and yet somehow Danny really never noticed her until one rainy Tuesday morning in French class, shortly after he handed in the perfect homework that Rusty had done for him and shortly before he managed to spectacularly fail a pop quiz. Which wasn't altogether his fault. Because listening to a monologue on the joys of bowling was every bit as dull in French as it was in English and somehow he just wasn't able to keep his mind on it long enough to actually hear the answers to the questions.

So he'd been staring aimlessly into space, considering pointlessly again whether it might be easier to just go in through the skylight – pointless, because Rusty was already three days into the scheme to get the alarm code, and after all they really hadn't been able to find out anything about the layout of the attic - and he realised he was staring at Patricia. At her left hand as it twisted repeatedly through her short brown hair, at the dimples in her cheek that were so obvious when she smiled, and at the smirk in her eyes, half-hidden as she whispered animatedly to Gina next to her. And he realised she was beautiful, and he wondered how he'd never seen that before. He only fully realised that he was staring when Mr Dalcourt asked her a question and he realised with a start that she'd been paying about as much attention as he had.

She looked up with a frown. "Je ne sais pas, Monsieur Dalcourt."

Mr Dalcourt scowled lightly. "Pourquoi?" he demanded.

"Je regrette mais je ne faisais pas attention," she replied, and Danny loved that she didn't sound nervous. And he loved her accent. It made him think of Yvette, and that made him just a little nostalgic.

Mr Dalcourt scowled a little harder, but Danny could see just a hint of confusion, and an even smaller hint of amusement in his eyes. "Pourquoi?" he asked again.

Patricia shrugged. "Le bowling est ennuyeux."

Danny would swear that he actually heard Mr Dalcourt choke back a laugh. "La prochaine fois, sois attentive."

She smiled and nodded, and if Danny had been inclined to use the words lightly he might have considered that he loved her then, just a little.

Then, of course, Mr Dalcourt turned on him and there was rather less amusement to be had.

Merde.

*

For the next week he found himself watching her whenever he had a chance. And he didn't say anything – for once – but it came as no real surprise when he got to the canteen one lunchtime and discovered that Rusty was sitting two tables away from where Patricia was laughing with Gina and Lucy and Unity, and had saved him the seat with the perfect view.

Sitting down, Danny smiled at him.

Rusty grinned back. "I feel like I'm facilitating your stalking habit."

Danny watched as Rusty stole a handful of his fries and coated them in salt. "I feel like I'm facilitating your grease habit."

"If you don't know to get extra by now there's no hope for you," Rusty pointed out.

He nodded, because he did know and he hadn't even wanted fries today and his gaze slid over Rusty's shoulder and he watched as she lined up three water glasses and gestured intently at them with a fork, obviously in the midst of making some deep and obscure point. Then Lucy said something and she laughed and dropped the fork with a clatter and he realised that Rusty was looking at him in amusement.

"You could always ask her out," Rusty suggested.

Danny frowned. "Suppose she says no?" he asked.

Rusty sighed. "How many girls have you asked out?"

"A few," Danny answered, unwillingly.

Rusty stared at him.

"A lot," he admitted.

Nodding, satisfied, Rusty continued. "And how many have said no?"

"She's different," Danny said quietly, after a long moment. She was. He didn't know how and he didn't know why, but she was.

Rusty studied him carefully and then grinned. "Oh, boy."

"Glad you're entertained." Danny scowled but he didn't mean it.

"Of course," Rusty answered lightly. He paused. "There's this dance coming up. You could ask her to that."

"It's Sadie Hawkins," Danny pointed out.

"Oh." Rusty considered. "Maybe she'll ask you."

Danny's eyes widened. "What would I say?"

"Yes?" Rusty suggested.

Danny ignored him. "What do I say if someone else asks me first?"

"No?" Rusty suggested, straight-faced.

Danny scowled at him again. This time he meant it a little. "Such a stupid idea. Who invented it?"

"Al Capp," Rusty replied promptly.

Blinking, Danny turned to stare at him.

Rusty shrugged. "More or less," he added.

Danny shook his head and the conversation turned – half coded and half unspoken – to the problem of locating the wall safe.

*

If she'd asked, he'd have had to tell her it wasn't about her. Not even a little bit, not really. But she didn't.

Civics first thing on a Friday was never going to be counted among Danny's favourite ways to spend his time, but it was worse today. Because he was exhausted and he was angry and he was miserable. Rusty had come over the night before. Three o'clock in the morning and Rusty hadn't been able to stand up straight let alone even think about climbing the tree. Danny had needed to sneak downstairs and let him in the front door. Fortunately his mom hadn't caught them, because that would have been bad. And Rusty had leaned heavily on him climbing up the stairs, and when he'd eased the horrible mint-green jumper off, he'd seen the varying shades of purple on Rusty's ribs and over his kidneys, and there had been anger, and ice-packs, and misery and painkillers and hopelessness, and there had been a sleepy, mumbled explanation about an accidentally slammed door and a broken chair leg, and there had been an apology that Danny would never understand, and later, when he was absolutely certain that Rusty was asleep, there had been tears.

It had been worse before. It would be worse again. And two weeks ago Danny had told the truth at yet another teacher, and it had taken so much smooth talking to avoid being sent to the school councillor.

This was what life was, and today Rusty had insisted that they both go into school, because they had missed enough that he was afraid they'd get noticed, and after all, there was nothing on his face so it didn't matter.

Today Danny was exhausted, and he was sitting at the back of the room, his head resting on his arm, only vaguely listening to his classmates argue about the healthcare system. Timothy Edgecourt was tearing into Patricia, and normally that would have stirred up all his more chivalrous instincts. Normally. Not today.

She was frowning, and it was obvious that she knew she was losing. " - a universal, free healthcare system – "

" – is un-American," Timothy interrupted rudely and not for the first time. "People would grow to expect the government to pay for every little thing, costs would spiral and the service would get worse; honestly do you really trust the government to handle something that complex?"

"But more and more people can't afford insurance," she pointed out, and there was a catch of desperation in her voice.

"That's not the government's fault; that's their own fault. In this country everyone has the same opportunities, and if people are too stupid or too lazy to grasp them – and half the time, remember, we're talking about alcoholics and drug addicts and criminals and welfare scroungers, and maybe they deserve – "

" – to die?" someone interrupted quietly. Danny was surprised to realise it was him. He sat up straight. Everyone was looking at him. He wasn't exactly known for his participation in class debates. "And their kids? Do they deserve to die because their parents are . . . " He trailed off. 'Bastards' he finished in his head.

Timothy rolled his eyes. "Honestly there's no need to be melodramatic here, Danny. Bringing up helpless little children." Not helpless. Never helpless. "And no-one is talking about anyone dying. There are free clinics and charity hospitals you know." His voice grew mocking. "For the poor little kiddies."

Danny nodded and wondered if Timothy had ever spent six hours sitting on the cold floor of one of those clinics, because the place was full of the maimed and the drunk and the only available seats were covered in vomit and everyone was too busy to clean it up. He wondered if Timothy had ever spent Thanksgiving fighting to keep his best friend conscious, terrified that he was going to die. He wondered if Timothy had any idea how the real world felt. "They do a good job," he allowed, because they had and they did, and later he'd gone and he'd left a huge bunch of flowers and half a ton of candy for the staff, because he'd been so damned thankful. "But it isn't enough."

"Oh?" Timothy raised an eyebrow. "So you think that it's right that hardworking citizens should have to pay extra taxes to support the underclass?"

"I think everyone should have the same opportunities," Danny answered. "And you're sixteen; you don't pay taxes." Timothy opened his mouth. Danny allowed himself a smile. "And according to the IRS, neither does your dad."

From that moment on it got personal and it got nasty and in the end Mr Fuller had to break the habit of a lifetime and actually get involved in his own subject.

Patricia stole glances at him for the rest of the lesson. She thought he'd done it for her. He hadn't. But when she approached him after class and asked him to the dance, he hadn't been able to bring himself to say no.

*

The dance was awful in nearly every way; but she was as near to perfect as made no odds.

The band was busy redefining terrible and they danced and laughed and took bets on whether the guitarist or the drummer would reach the end of the song first. The drummer won. Every time. Danny couldn't help but wonder if the guy had somewhere better to be.

The only thing to drink was lemonade so sweet it made Danny's teeth itch and Patricia giggled, and when they were sure no-one was looking, she produced half a bottle of dessert wine, and it tasted even worse than the lemonade, but they drank it and laughed at the faces they pulled.

They danced close to an extraordinarily bad version of 'Two out of three ain't bad' and Danny looked down at her, and her eyes were closed and her smile was beatific, and he wished that the moment would never end, and then Miss Acre stormed up to them and shrieked that boys and girls must be at least six inches apart at all times. And he watched Patricia blush and squeezed her hand, and then he turned to Miss Acre and he smiled and he talked and after a while she told them that they were only young once and to enjoy it. The band was still playing. So they did.

When the dance was over it was raining and they stood outside in a little nook until it eased off, and he lit her cigarette for her and draped his coat around her shoulders and he felt like Humphrey Bogart but she looked like Rita Hayworth.

He walked her home, and on her doorstep he kissed her goodnight. It was quick and chaste and gentle and he hadn't kissed a girl like that since he was fourteen. And he wouldn't change it for the world.

The next day they were a couple.

*

That week there were quick smiles in the corridors and stolen glances in class. A couple of times they ate lunch together and they talked about music and life and books and nothing, and actually separating when the bell rang for class was difficult.

At the weekend he took her to see 'Norma Rae' and she loved it, as he'd known she would. They sat in the ice-cream parlour afterwards, and he watched her swinging her legs and eating a banana split and he was so, so happy.

Out of nowhere she looked at him seriously. "You know, I hear a lot of rumours about you."

He hesitated. "Some of them are probably true," he admitted.

"They say you cheat at tests." She watched him. There was no disapproval in her eyes, but he still wondered.

"Mostly we don't," he explained. "But we help other people to cheat."

She nodded, and there was a thoughtful pause. "And they say that you get people out of detentions, and that you steal back things that have been stolen or confiscated, and that you get things that people need, like props for the drama society and equipment for the science club."

Huh. Put like that they almost sounded benevolent. "We have done all those things before," he said carefully. "But it's not exactly like it sounds. Most of the time people were paying us." And the times that they weren't, they were owed a favour, and that was good too.

She nodded again. "You know, to hear people talk, it sounds as if you can do anything."

"That's Rusty," he said, immediately and fondly. "He likes to add to the rumours."

She smiled unexpectedly. "I like that."

He blinked. "The rumours . . . ?"

She shook her head. "I like the way you smile when you say his name."

And before he could even think about coming to terms with that, she leaned forwards and kissed him, and it was slow and it was tender and it was lingering and somewhere in the middle there were fireworks.

The next day his mom was away and he invited her over to his house, and he introduced her to Rusty and he watched while they argued happily about the literary merits of Stephen King, and he thought no, _this_ was happiness.

*

On their third date he took her to Mabel's. And he was nervous in a way that he couldn't explain. Of course she looked up the moment they walked in, and she smiled welcomingly. "Danny! Come in and sit down, sugar. And who is this charming young lady?"

He swallowed. "Mabel, this is Patricia Holmes. My girlfriend. Patricia, this is Mabel." He was aware of Patricia eying him curiously. He hadn't exactly explained anything before he'd taken her here. He hadn't exactly known how.

Mabel's smile grew wider. "So happy to meet you. Both of you, sit down." She ushered them over to a table. "Now, what can I get for you?"

"Coffee and a piece of pie, please Mabel. Pat?"

She smiled. "The same for me, thank you."

"Coming right up." She bustled off cheerfully.

Almost reluctantly Danny turned round to Patricia's questioning look. "We've been coming here . . . a long time. Since I was nine. Mabel's good to us. Good for us."

Patricia nodded slowly. "Your life's not a bed of roses, is it?" she asked quietly.

Danny shook his head tightly. She reached across the table and took his hand and she didn't ask anymore questions.

Mabel came back with the pie and the coffee and waved off Danny's attempts to actually pay with an air of good-natured irritation. "Oh! While I remember," She produced a five dollar bill. "Give this to your brother, will you? He was in here this morning. Fixed up the faucet in my bathroom. Did a real good job, too."

Danny nodded. "I'll see he gets it," he promised.

When Mabel had left them alone again, Patricia frowned. "Brother?" she asked in an undertone.

"Rusty." Danny explained, and he bit his lip and glanced away. "She knows we aren't . . . but she still says it, and it's not as if we mind. Suppose it's stupid."

There was a silence, and when he looked back round she was smiling at him and there was reassurance and compassion. "It's not stupid."

"Sometimes I wish . . . " Danny trailed off, because there were some things that he was never going to articulate.

She nodded and changed the subject. "How does Rusty know about plumbing, anyway?"

Danny shrugged and grinned. "Sometimes I think Rusty might just know about everything."

She laughed and they talked inconsequentialities for the rest of the day.

*

Danny lay on the bed, working on Rusty's literature homework while Rusty lay on the floor and worked on the hand-drawn plans of what they really had to stop calling the 'Sinatra house'.

"I'm going to have been going out with Patricia for a month next week," he said casually.

Rusty didn't look up. "Uh huh."

"Think she's expecting me to get her something?"

"No," Rusty answered immediately, and he frowned and rubbed an errant line out.

Danny considered that for a moment. "Think I _should_ get her something?" he asked.

And then Rusty did look up, and he looked at Danny as if he thought he was crazy. "Yeah."

"Oh." Danny thought for a long, long moment. "What?"

Rusty blinked. "I don't know," he said, hesitantly.

Danny sighed. This was longer than either of them had ever been out with a girl. And he wasn't exactly sure what was supposed to happen next.

*

He asked some of the guys in school the next day, while they were stretched out on the bleachers, relaxing in lieu of gym class. The answers came thick and fast and none of them were particularly helpful

"Chocolates!"

"Flowers!"

"A teddy bear, or something. Girls love 'em!"

"Come off it, Danny, we all know what you want to give her!"

The last was from Norris Carroll and accompanied by a snigger and a gesture, and Rusty lazily leaned up and muttered something near his ear and Norris stomped off sharply

Danny looked across at Rusty and shrugged. They'd need to keep thinking.

*

They asked Mabel that night, while she was hunting up some arnica cream for Rusty's cheek. She just looked at them and sighed. "I can't tell you that, honey. Every girl is different. What does she like?"

Danny shrugged helplessly. "Lots of things. But I want it to be something special, you know? Something personal."

She reached out and ruffled his hair, the way she did to Rusty sometimes. "You're a good boy. You'll figure it out."

And that was nice. But not helpful.

*

A couple of days later, when they delivered the complete, signed, Frank Sinatra LP collection, exactly as planned and exactly as ordered, Danny could see the grin long before it appeared on Rusty's face, and he mentally begged him not to ask.

It didn't work of course. "Hey, Leo?" And the grin was all in Danny's head, on the outside Rusty looked deadly earnest. "What sort of present should Danny buy his girlfriend?"

Leo held his hands up nervously. "Is this gonna lead to a talk about the birds and the bees? Cos if so, I'm calling Bobby."

"No!" Danny said immediate and horrified. "It's not important."

"It's a little important," Rusty argued, and he still wasn't smiling.

But Leo looked as if he was thinking. "Flowers? Chocolates? Lingerie . . . no, I guess not. Jewellery? Lotsa girls put out for jewellery . . . and don't tell Bobby I said that either."

Rusty lit a cigarette. "Last I heard it was only the drinking he'd banned."

Leo looked at him pointedly. "Last I heard he wasn't too keen on _that_ , either."

Rusty shrugged and inhaled and said nothing. Danny grabbed the money off the table. "Thanks, Leo."

"Don't mention it," He looked down at the records. "Hey! Does she like Sinatra?"

They got outside. Danny was thinking. Rusty smiled. "We should have made him call Bobby."

Danny glared at him. "Think it's a little late for the birds and the bees, don't you?"

"It would have been funny," Rusty answered with a smirk. "And it would have given Bobby good practice for dealing with Linus."

"I am not willing to sacrifice that much dignity for your entertainment," Danny told him. "Get used to it."

Rusty smiled. "You're thinking about music?"

Danny nodded. "Meatloaf. We – "

" – danced to – ".

" – uh huh."

"Perfect."

"You think?"

Rusty considered some more and nodded.

*

It was. He got her the record, and he got her 31 roses; one for each day they'd been together, and she'd hugged him like she never wanted to let go.

She said that he needed to meet her family and he supposed that since – in every way that mattered – she'd already met his, that made sense. Didn't mean he wasn't terrified. He wore a suit and a tie and he spent longer fixing his hair than he ever had before and he still didn't feel like he was smart enough.

Patricia laughed at him as he begged for just a second to check his reflection in the glass of her front door. "They'll love you, Danny. You can make anyone like you, remember?"

"Doesn't work on families," he muttered darkly and immediately regretted it when her smile vanished. "Sorry, Pat, I'm just a little on edge."

She nodded and forgave him. "Come and meet everyone," she instructed.

There were so _many_ of them. Patricia had two brothers and a sister, and a grandfather who lived with them, and a grandmother and two aunts and an uncle who had just come over to take a look at Danny, and he was so glad that he didn't make a habit of forgetting names. And they were all so loud and there was laughter and teasing, and even round the dinner table her brothers were pushing and shoving each other, and her sister was insisting on showing everyone the clay pot she'd made in school, and everyone was friendly and everyone was nice, even when they were busy interrogating Danny, and he just didn't know what to make of it.

"So, Danny. You play football at all?" Patricia's father asked, and Danny had seen the hopeful look in his eye and had prepared himself to lie before he had caught sight of Patricia, shaking her head ever so slightly across the table.

He cleared his throat. "No, Mr Holmes. I'm afraid I've never really been into it."

He looked disappointed and the subject was changed, but Danny hadn't lied.

Later, Mr Holmes was talking to the uncle, who Danny had been a little disconcerted to realise was a cop, and they were discussing the recent outbreak of liquor store robberies, and the uncle had said something offhanded about rounding up the usual suspects and before he could stop himself Danny muttered "Realizing the importance of the case, my men are rounding up twice the usual number of suspects."

Patricia's dad had smiled approvingly. "Bogart fan, huh?"

"Yes," he shrugged. "Sorry."

"I didn't think kids today liked the old movies. Have you seen the 'The Maltese Falcon'?"

Danny grinned; it had been on TV the other week. They'd stayed up till an ungodly hour waiting to hear the man say 'The stuff dreams are made of.'

The rest of the night passed in a haze of old film references and trivia. It was _fun_ and Patricia was smiling at him all the while.

*

A few days later, he watched as Rusty picked the lock on the door of the bakery, and he found himself asking hesitantly, "Do you ever think we're missing out on something?"

Rusty turned round and looked at him seriously. "Wishing gets you nothing, Danny."

*

Summer came and lasted forever. There were endless dates, and picnics and trips to the cinema, or to get ice cream, or to Mabel's, and sometimes it was just him and Patricia, and sometimes Rusty was there too, and sometimes Rusty brought whichever girl had managed to temporarily attract his attention, and it was always sunny and it was always good.

And sometimes they lay on the grass and he and Rusty would scheme and plot, and Patricia would listen and roll her eyes and laugh, and it was all a game that she didn't mind.

They didn't have to lie about that. But sometimes Patricia asked about the bruises Rusty wore as a matter of course, and Danny bit his lip and said nothing and let Rusty spin whatever story he felt like. And Patricia would smile and nod and accept but sometimes Danny caught her looking, and he wondered what he'd do if she asked.

Thankfully he never found out.

*

There were nights too, and he and Patricia spent them alone, and before there'd been other girls and there'd been other nights but it had never been so good and he couldn't imagine why it couldn't last forever.

*

Eventually Mom got to hear that there was a girl in his life, and tight-lipped and insistent she extended what she'd describe as an invitation and Danny would describe as an ultimatum.

Patricia had been nervous. He'd told her about Dad, and she'd listened and understood, but they'd never really discussed Mom, and he'd have been happy to let it stay that way forever.

He'd tried to explain before, but she hadn't really understood and he'd winced at the expression on her face when Mom sneered at the CND pin on her coat, and the denim skirt with the roses on the hem that Danny thought she looked so beautiful in.

Dinner had been awkward and near-silent and Danny gave serious consideration to the idea that maybe Mom was just against him being loved on general principle.

Later he wrapped her in his arms and he promised her the world if only she'd stop crying, because it honestly couldn't matter less and she kissed him wildly and he realised she hadn't been crying because Mom had hurt _her_.

*

He came in after a late date to find Rusty sleeping face down on top of his bed.

"Wake up, Goldilocks," he said, reluctant to reach out and touch until he knew just where Rusty was hurt.

"I didn't get any porridge," Rusty mumbled into the pillow and he moved his arm out from under him and his hand was a solid mass of swollen purple and Danny couldn't help but gasp. The hand was immediately snatched away, hidden under the pillow, and Danny couldn't imagine how that was supposed to help.

"Rus' . . . " he began, knowing that the sentence would include 'hospital' and 'now'.

Rusty sat up and smoothed his hair down with his good hand and Danny saw the slight swelling around his eye. "I can still move all my fingers properly. Nothing's broken."

Danny looked sceptical and then immediately wished he hadn't, when Rusty raised his hand and wiggled each of his fingers in turn, gritting his teeth all the while.

"You – "

" – took my painkillers like a good boy, and I had it wrapped in a wet towel for an hour or so." Rusty shrugged, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "And there's nothing else worth mentioning. It's done. How was your date?"

Danny sat down next to him and gently started to check out the mangled hand. "Amazing," he said sincerely.

"That's what you always say," Rusty pointed out, a smile in his voice, as he let Danny run his fingers carefully over swollen knuckles.

"That's what it always is," Danny shrugged.

"Right," Rusty yawned and Danny decided that there probably wasn't anything broken. Still looked a mess though. And Danny could only imagine how much it hurt and he wished that - even just once - it could be him instead.

"Rus'?" he began, after a moment.

"Uh huh?"

"How do you know when you love someone?"

There was a long silence.

"You're asking me?" Rusty asked, finally and lightly.

"Who else have I got?" Danny sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."

There was another long silence.

"I suppose," Rusty began eventually, and when Danny turned to look at him, he was staring at the floor. "I suppose it's when you would be happy to spend every minute of the rest of your life with them. When the very idea of them being unhappy makes you miserable. When you'd give everything you have to keep them safe and happy. When just the idea of them is enough to make you smile and to keep . . . to keep the bad things from hurting so much."

There was a lump in Danny's throat. Silently he reached out and ran a hand through Rusty's hair, and Rusty sighed and leaned in to the touch.

She was never further from his thoughts.

*

One starry night they drove out of town together. Danny had picked her up at her front door, and she'd stared at the Chevy, deeply impressed, and then she'd made him promise that afterwards he'd put it back exactly where he'd found it with a full tank of gas.

He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as she sang along to the radio and beat out time on the glove box and she was wonderfully alive.

They parked by the edge of the river and made love beneath the stars and afterwards, as they stared upwards, she told him the names of the constellations, and she didn't even laugh too much when the frog brushed against his foot and he scrambled back towards the car.

And she stood up, naked and beautiful and free in the moonlight, and the words were on the tip of his tongue. But somehow he just didn't say them.

*

On the morning after the phone rang and rang and didn't stop.

And eventually he realised that he was going to have to do something about that.

He opened his eyes and looked at Rusty. Still asleep, curled on top of Danny's arm, his head burrowed against Danny's shoulder as though that could somehow make it all better. Which it couldn't. But it did help. He reached over with his free hand and brushed Rusty's hair out of his face, frowning at the realisation that it was still matted with dried blood. Well. Neither of them had exactly been in a fit state to get cleaned up last night.

Gently – very, very gently – he eased his arm out from under Rusty, and winced when he heard the quiet moan, and cringed when a pair of pain-filled blue eyes stared up at him.

"I need to go and answer the phone," he said softly. "Go back to sleep."

Rusty stared at him for a second longer, then he nodded and closed his eyes.

Carefully Danny opened the door and looked round. Thankfully though, there was no sign of Mom – which made sense, if she was in she'd probably have answered the phone – so he headed downstairs and grabbed the handset.

"Hello?"

Patricia's voice was loud and frantic. "Danny? Oh, thank god. I've been ringing and ringing, but your mom just hung up on me, and then there was no answer. Uncle Davie said you were arrested last night? What happened? Are you all right?"

Danny blinked. He'd forgotten. Everything that had happened, and he'd forgotten her. He tried to be reassuring. Tried to say 'I'm fine.' But the words wouldn't come. "They let us go," he said instead, stupidly, because if they hadn't, how could they be talking now?

"I know that." And there was impatience and concern and fear in her voice. "But are you all right?"

The lie still wouldn't form. The silence stretched on for far too long. "We need to talk," he said at last.

For a long moment she said nothing, and he wondered if she knew what was coming. "There's no-one at mine right now," she said eventually. "Come on over."

"Okay." He nodded, not even caring that she couldn't see him. "I'll . . . I'll see you soon." And he hung up.

He stood, for a time, with the receiver resting against his forehead, and he wished he'd said something else. Something better.

There was juice in the fridge and he took a glass of it upstairs and pressed it into Rusty's hands along with a couple of painkillers.

"I need to go out for a bit," he said, reluctantly.

Rusty swallowed the pills and nodded and said nothing, and Danny felt the stab of an old fear.

He licked his lips. "Rus' . . . ?"

There was a frown and a sudden flash of realisation and Rusty shook his head quickly and smiled reassuringly. "'s okay," he said and Danny didn't know what he meant, because none of it was even remotely okay. But at least there were words.

"I won't be long," he promised, and he squeezed Rusty's hand tightly.

Rusty's voice stopped him on his way to the door. "Patricia?" They hadn't discussed it, but he wasn't surprised.

He nodded, but he didn't turn round.

"Danny. Think about it." Rusty's voice was pleading. But Danny didn't need to think. He'd decided.

*

When she let him in he realised she'd been crying and he had to fight back the guilt and he had to fight back the apologies.

They went through to the living room and though she invited him to sit, he stood, awkward and uncomfortable, in the middle of memories of happier times.

They stared at each other, and he knew she knew what this was, and he knew she didn't understand why and he didn't think he could explain.

She kissed him, desperately, passionately, and for a few moments he let her, and he found himself so close to just abandoning himself to everything safe and normal and wonderful.

He stepped back and didn't cry.

"I can't," he told her.

Her face was filled with misery. "Why?" she demanded. "Danny, why?"

"Everything changed last night," He swallowed hard. "Things are bad, Pat, maybe worse than they've ever been, and I can't . . . " He shook his head and there were a thousand things he couldn't say. "I can't be what you deserve."

He could see she didn't understand. She stared at him, and her eyes widened. "Is that blood?"

It was. This was still the shirt he'd been wearing last night. He glanced down at the stains on his sleeve. "It's not mine," he said, with a slight shrug. It never was, after all. "Things are bad," he repeated.

"Let me help you," she pleaded. "Let me in, Danny. Things can't be so bad that I can't help."

He shook his head firmly and replaced compassion with brutality. "Things have changed. We're going to need to work hard. It's not going to be . . you deserve someone who's going to be there for you. And I don't need the distraction." He watched her face crumple and he hated himself. And he'd told the truth, but the other truth, the deeper, truth was that all of this could go so wrong so quickly, and he wasn't going to drag her down with them.

"Danny, _please_ ," she whispered.

He looked away and spoke quickly. "The last six months I've been so happy. And I never wanted it to end. But it has, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"I thought . . . I was sure. . ." Her voice was thick with unshed tears. "Don't you love me?"

He didn't – couldn't – answer.

"Danny?" She looked at him pleadingly. "Tell me you love me?"

He closed his eyes and told the truth. "I don't love you enough."

As he walked away he heard her crying.

Later Rusty told him he'd made the wrong choice. Rusty didn't know everything.


	19. If the Fates Allow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In the Beginning Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 13 &14) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 2\. Neverending Conversation Parts 1 & 2 (Chapter 15 & 16) Rusty is 7, Danny is 9.  
> 3\. Something More Than It Should Be (Chapter 10) Rusty is 10, Danny is 12  
> 4.Four Day Interlude (Chapter 5) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 5\. Remember the first time (Chapter 4) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 6\. Sunshine, Smiles and Sweet, Sweet Words (Chapter 17) Rusty is 10, Danny is 13  
> 7\. View from the Outside (Chapter 12) Rusty is 11, Danny is 14  
> 8\. Other Nightmares (Chapter 8 &9) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 9\. Walk before you can crawl (Chapter 2) Rusty is 12, Danny is 15  
> 10\. Career Survey (Chapter 1) Rusty is 13, Danny is 15  
> 11\. Life Lessons (Chapter 7) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 12\. The Lies we Live (Chapter 3) Rusty is 14, Danny is 16  
> 13\. If the Fates Allow (Chapter 19) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
> 14\. This is our decision (to live fast and die young) : (Chapter 6) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17  
> 15\. Such a Perfect Day (Chapter 11) Rusty is 14, Danny is 17

The snow was crisp, deep and just plain cold and Danny considered himself well out of it. Which was why he was hanging back in the doorway, with the central heating on full blast behind him, watching Rusty struggle up the driveway.

The look he got when Rusty finally made it inside would probably have been a lot more effective if Rusty hadn't hidden himself under quite so many layers.

"Cold outside," Danny commented, by way of explanation.

"Yeah. I noticed." Rusty's voice was muffled and he turned his back on Danny and pulled off his coat, and a scarf. Danny watched, fascinated as he realised that there were another two scarves underneath. "Your mom left okay?"

"Uh huh." He'd spent most of the morning eavesdropping on her talking on the phone, desperate to find out if her flight had been cancelled, or if Tom had changed his mind. "We're all alone till New Year."

Rusty unwound the other scarves and pulled off his gloves. "Good." He must have sensed Danny watching. "It's cold."

"Right," Danny agreed and reached to the table behind him.

"If you were any sort of friend you'd have - " He turned round, and Danny smiled and pressed the mug of hot chocolate he'd had ready into his hands. " - done that," Rusty finished.

"I did."

Rusty looked at the drink thoughtfully. "Cream, marshmallows and sprinkles?" he asked hopefully.

"And a flake as well," Danny nodded. "You're going to be dead by the time you're twenty."

Closing his eyes, Rusty took a drink. "Oh, that's better," he said. "And chocolate never hurt anyone." He laid the mug down, pulled off his hat and shook the damp out of his hair, and Danny swore softly and reached out a gentle hand to the cut on Rusty's forehead and the multicoloured bruise on Rusty's cheek. Rusty smiled. "Least in this weather it comes ready iced."

"Just once, he couldn't leave you alone?" he asked, savagely.

"He caught me when I was leaving. Wanted to know where I was going," Rusty shrugged, and he hesitated, looking at Danny.

Danny sighed. "What else?"

In answer, Rusty wriggled out of his jumper and the bruises on his neck and arm were clearly visible under his t-shirt. "'s nothing."

"Yeah. Nothing," Danny answered flatly. Maybe it wasn't. In the scheme of things, in comparison

Rusty smiled. "What, you think everything should be better because it's Christmas?"  
 _just_ because it's Christmas. "Why not?"

"Because this is the really real world?" Rusty suggested. "And we're not five?"

"Yeah." Danny wandered through to the kitchen. Rusty took his mug and followed him.

"We got enough in to eat?" he asked.

Danny pointed sternly at the nearest chair, and Rusty gave him a look and hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter instead. Well. Close enough. "All the leftovers from Mom's Christmas party. Canapes and coronation turkey and about twenty different kinds of cake."

"Any real food?" Rusty asked, tilting his head back obediently.

" _Now_ you want real food?" Danny blinked, flannel in hand.

Rusty waited until Danny had finished dabbing away the blood, and shrugged. "Just that the shops are going to be shut for a few days. We got enough bread? Milk?"

Danny sighed and looked out the window at the weather. "You just want to get me out in that, don't you?"

He was answered with a grin. "It's Christmas Eve and it's snowing. What more do you want? Popcorn? Ice cream? Coffee?"

Ah. Essentials. Danny gave in, less than graciously and stuck a band aid over the cut. "Okay, okay."

Rusty frowned suddenly, as if something urgent had occurred to him. "How about eggnog. We got enough eggnog?"

He looked over his shoulder at the fridge. "Uh, two and a half cartons." Rusty continued to look troubled. Danny groaned. "We'll get more."

*

He'd been right; it was cold outside. They walked in silence and Danny concentrated on feeling sorry for himself, and Rusty concentrated on laughing at him.

Of course, it would take a lot more misery, and a lot more entertainment, to stop them from being aware of the flurry of movement behind them, and in a moment of unplanned, unscripted and perfect coordination, Danny pushed Rusty at exactly the same moment as Rusty pushed him; and as a result the snowball went flying between them and splatted against the Gardiner's garage wall.

"Huh." They exchanged a quick, amused glance and turned slowly to see Mike staring at them, wide-eyed.

"That was brilliant!" he said, decisively. "How did you do that?"

"Magic," Rusty grinned.

"Heard you coming," Danny explained, a little more sensibly.

Mike nodded and still looked for too impressed. "We're having a snowball fight. Want to join in?"

"We're heading to the shop," Danny said, reluctantly.

"For eggnog," Rusty added.

But Danny frowned. Because . . . "On the other – "

" – well, I suppose – "

" – Haven't had – "

" – not since we were kids," Rusty agreed.

They had the time. Why not?

Mike grinned. "Great! You can be on my team."

"Hey," John appeared, brushing snow off his gloves. "We had even teams. They'll put you ahead."

Danny bit his lip; evidently John was taking this a little too seriously.

Mike shrugged. "Okay, you can have Timothy."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just split Danny and Rusty up?" John suggested. There was a pause and Mike stared at him and both boys started laughing helplessly.

"Yeah, good one," Mike sniggered, when he'd caught his breath.

Danny turned round to look at Rusty. "You think – "

" – Oh, yeah." Rusty agreed. They were being made fun of. Just a little.

*

A while later and they were trailing into Mike's kitchen on the promise of coffee.

And Danny was even colder than he had been before, and he was mildly soaked, and very out of breath, and he had snow down the back of his neck, courtesy of Timothy - who'd subsequently been sufficiently distracted by the sight of Rusty flirting with Susie for Danny to get his retaliation in. He was cold. He was wet. And he was happy and Rusty was grinning.

"John couldn't hit a snowball with the side of a barn," Rusty laughed, taking his hat off.

"You're just good at dodging," Mike answered, rummaging through the cupboards. "Hey, Danny, my parents and my little brother are out at my grandma's, and they won't be back till later. Do you . . . " He lowered his voice and trailed off significantly.

"What?" Danny asked, amused.

"Do you want a shot of something in the coffee?" Mike hissed. " _Alcohol_ , I mean."

"Sure," Danny agreed. "What've you got?"

"Uh, vodka or whisky," Mike said, after a moment and a little more rummaging.

""Whisky," Rusty said immediately, and Danny breathed a sigh of relief. "Vodka doesn't go well in coffee."

Mike turned round frowning. "Rusty, are you sure you're old enough. . . " And Danny saw the precise moment when Mike noticed the bruises and he heard the audible snap when Mike closed his mouth, and still Mike stared just that little bit too long. "Right," he said eventually. "Three Irish coffees, coming up."

There was a vaguely uncomfortable silence while Mike sorted the coffees, and even as they sat and drank, Mike was still stealing glances.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, at last.

"Nah," Rusty lied, and there was an edge to his voice that made Danny nervous.

If anything, Mike looked even more troubled. "What – "

" – I walked into a door," Rusty interrupted, and this time it wasn't even worth being called a lie.

"Mike," Danny said, quietly and firmly, and Mike reluctantly changed the subject.

"You know, I could've sworn that you were away for Christmas, Danny. My mom was talking to your mom."

"She's away. I'm not." Danny explained. She was making good use of his college fund, now that she didn't have to spend it on him.

"So what are you doing for Christmas?" Mike asked innocently.

They glanced at each other and shrugged. Might as well be honest.

"Popcorn and eggnog," Rusty said happily.

"And movies," Danny nodded.

Mike smiled. "Sounds fun."

They ignored the note of pity in his voice. Just because it wasn't normal didn't mean it wasn't wonderful.

*

The night before Christmas and they had every cushion, pillow and blanket in the house laid out on the living room floor, and they were lying, watching the bewildering late night Christmas movies, surrounded by eggnog and ten, overflowing bowls of popcorn. They should possibly have read the instructions before they tried making the stuff. At least the bit about the recommended amount. Though Rusty seemed happy enough, and now there was no more salt or butter in the kitchen.

Bemused, Danny watched as the aliens introduced the little girl to Father Christmas.

"Isn't that kid a little too old to believe in Santa?" Rusty asked idly.

She looked about thirteen. And there was a line to be drawn between charmingly naïve and dangerously stupid. Still. "She's sitting on the back of a flying reindeer," he pointed out. "Under the circumstances, I might reconsider."

Rusty acknowledged the point and took another handful of popcorn.

Danny was thinking. "I was eight," he said, thoughtfully, remembering.

"Yeah?" Rusty propped himself up on his elbow and turned away from the movie.

_Just_ eight," Danny clarified. "Christmas Eve. Mom sat me down and told me I was far too old to be believing in children's stories. Dad was so angry with her. They hardly said a word to each other till New Years. It was pretty peaceful, actually. And I guess Dad felt guilty or something, because he bought me three new GI Joes."

"GI Joes?" Rusty asked, and there was pain behind his smile.

Danny shrugged. "He tried."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, and he raised his glass and Danny gratefully joined in the silent toast.

"How old were you?" Danny asked presently.

"When?" Rusty asked, after an undetectable pause.

Danny blinked. There was something . . ? "When you found out the truth about Saint Nick."

Rusty grinned. "Who says I have?"

"Rusty," Danny said, frowning.

There was a reluctant sigh. "I was seven."

Seven. The Christmas after they'd met then. And with a growing sense of guilt, Danny replayed a couple of conversations in his head, that first Christmas. Oh. Fuck. "I'm sorry, Rus'."

"Don't be," Rusty told him sharply. "I was glad."

And Danny looked up sharply, because again, there was something. "Why?"

Rusty hesitated. "It's better . . . " He paused and started again. "It's easier to know that it's just your parents who . . . not some all-knowing being who thinks you're . . ." he shrugged helplessly, and Danny understood and the small voice of infinite fury that was hardly ever silent screamed again.

"Oh," he said, shortly, tightly, hopelessly.

"He knows if you've been bad or good," Rusty quoted, with a grin.

"They didn't get you anything," he stated, and he'd known, certainly he'd known that since Rusty's mom left there'd been no seasonal cheer, no festive food, no presents. Didn't stop him from hating it.

"Sometimes they got me something," Rusty defended and Danny clenched his jaw. "When I was young enough to need it. Clothes or candy. Even a jigsaw once."

"Rus'," he said quietly.

Rusty sighed. "I know, Danny. But even if they'd wanted to they never had that much money."

"They always had enough to spend on themselves," Danny answered bitterly.

"And most of the time, so have I," Rusty pointed out. "But the year before, Dad had just lost his job. And I suppose it was easier just to tell me that I was far too bad for Santa to bring me anything."

Danny swore. For a long time. Parents. He could live without them.

Rusty smiled. "This time next year?" he offered gently.

He nodded. They'd be far away.

They looked back at the TV. "Hey, Jimmy Stewart," Rusty said, delightedly.

"We watched it when it was on two days ago," Danny pointed out.

"I checked the listings. We can watch it three more times this week." And Danny wasn't completely convinced that Rusty knew that wasn't a good idea.

He smiled and shuffled closer to Rusty, lay close enough to touch, and he reached past him as though the eggnog was all he'd wanted.

*

_In his dream, he was sixteen again and he sat at the table with his mother and picked at the trifle and tried to think of something to say that might make her smile. The conversation flowed like ice._

_He was fifteen again, in a foreign country. Yvette had just left, and he was feeling like a stupid little boy, and he was lonely and he missed his dad so very much. He wished he could talk to Rusty._

_He was fourteen again and his side hurt, and Uncle Harold had been on the phone for hours, or at least long enough that the turkey had gone cold. He knew better than to be rude enough to start without him. In a couple of days his parents would be home. A couple of days after that his dad would move out for good._

_He was thirteen, he was twelve, he was eleven and they wouldn't stop arguing._

_He was ten and they were eating Chinese take out because Mom had dropped the turkey on the floor. She'd said it was an accident. She'd said it was his fault. He'd only wanted to know why he couldn't invite Rusty to spend the night at New Years. She always let him have a friend over while the party was on._

_He was nine and it was just him and Mom. She said Dad had found something better to do. She let him stay up late and made him hot chocolate and cried when she thought he wasn't looking. He asked if it was his fault. She didn't answer._

_He was eight and there was a little less wonder in the world._

_He was seven, he was six, he was five and he tried so hard to be good, and he always got everything he asked for, so Santa had to think he was a good boy. So why didn't Mom and Daddy notice? Why wasn't he good enough? He'd make them notice. This time next year, they'd love him._

_In his dream Rusty was thirteen, ten, twelve, five, nine, any age, every age, clutching a candy cane, a string of popcorn broken at his feet, and his father stood over him and swung his fist, his foot, his belt, again and again and Rusty bled and didn't cry._

_Danny did._

*

He woke up with his arm trapped under the cushion they'd dragged off the settee in the hall, and it took him a little while to remember where he was. Right. Living room. Christmas. He sat up only to see Rusty sitting far too close to the TV, wrapped in a duvet and sitting on a pile of about eight pillows, watching the opening scenes of 'Bambi'.

"Change the channel," Danny said firmly. Rusty twisted round and there was definitely the beginnings of a pout, but some things he wouldn't be swayed on. "Don't give me that, you know why."

"Happy Christmas to you too," Rusty grumbled, but he found 'Miracle on 34th Street' instead.

"How long you been awake?" Danny asked, stretching.

"'Jungle Book'" Rusty told him, laconically.

Danny nodded. "Anything for breakfast?"

"Eggnog, chocolate, and lots of popcorn," Rusty suggested.

Huh. "It'll be cold," he pointed out. Cold popcorn tasted like cardboard. And they still had six bowls of it.

Rusty looked thoughtful. "Think we could put it back on the stove?"

There was a long, carefully considered pause.

"No," Danny said at last.

"No," Rusty agreed.

No setting fire to the kitchen at Christmas. If at all possible.

"Ice cream?" Danny suggested instead. Since Rusty had insisted they buy three cartons of it at the store yesterday. Might as well get good use out of it.

"How about coffee and croissants?" Rusty said, with a smile.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Positively civilised," he remarked.

"We can have ice cream for dessert," Rusty added and Danny smiled. Very reasonable.

They ate breakfast and watched the rest of the movie play out, and Danny kept glancing over and hesitating and wondering if he'd done the right thing.

"What?" Rusty asked at last.

Danny sighed. "Well. I know we agreed that we weren't going to get each other anything – "

" - Because we need to save all our money – " Rusty interjected.

" – yeah." Danny nodded. "Yeah. But – "

Rusty smiled at him. " – But we were both lying. Remember?"

He relaxed. He did remember. "Happy Christmas, Rusty," he pulled the package out from where he'd hidden it under the sofa.

With a smile, Rusty produced his own package. Rather disturbingly, the wrapping paper was identical. "After you," he said, politely.

"No, I insist. After you," Danny replied, with an equally fake politeness in his voice.

Rusty grinned and pulled the bow to pieces.

"Hey!" Danny objected. "That took me ages."

"You're supposed to be creative and dextrous," Rusty told him, as he reverently lifted the dark brown leather wallet out of the paper. "Oh, that is nice. Thank you, Danny."

And the appreciation in Rusty's voice was wonderful to hear, but he hadn't seen half of it yet. "Check the lining," Danny said eagerly. "At the top."

Rusty frowned at him, but he carefully felt his way along the edge, and Danny grinned at the moment when he found the hidden compartment and his expression changed. The wallet opened just a little bit further than looked possible, revealing an assortment of new and shiny lockpicks and tools. " _Danny_ ," Rusty breathed and honestly, Danny would probably do anything for that look and that smile.

"You're welcome," he said, and the smile wasn't dying away any time soon. He liked the thought of Rusty always having an extra means of escape on him.

"Open yours," Rusty demanded, equally eager, and Danny was only too happy to oblige. Under the paper was a box, and inside that was . . . _oh_. Inside that was a gold wristwatch. And it was beautiful, and it was elegant, and it was exactly his style, and it must have cost a fortune ( _and some part of him would always have to wonder_ whose) but that wasn't what brought the lump to his throat when he held it up to admire it. The two sets of initials engraved on the back. The date. The message.

_This year. Next year. Always._

He looked up at Rusty, watching him – hopefully? Anxiously? – and he couldn't even speak, and he could only be thankful that it was him and it was Rusty and he never needed to.

Rusty smiled and raised a glass of eggnog. "To next year."

"To always," Danny whispered back.

There'd never been a better Christmas before. But next year they'd be free.


	20. The Humiliation of Norris Carroll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline
> 
> 1\. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.  
> 2\. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.  
> 3\. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve  
> 4\. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
> 5\. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
> 6\. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
> 7\. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.  
> 8\. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
> 9\. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen  
> 10\. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen  
> 11\. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen  
> 12\. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen  
> 13\. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'  
> 14\. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen  
> 15\. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen  
> 16\. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen  
> 17\. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.

Slightly annoyed with himself, Rusty wandered out of the school towards the back steps. He found Danny without much difficulty, sitting against the wall listening to Mike and David argue about something. It was possible robots were involved. Danny looked up as soon as Rusty stepped round the corner, and his eyes smiled a greeting, and despite his mood and the real worry that he'd just committed them to something stupid, Rusty smiled back.

"Hey, Mike, hey, David." He leaned against the wall but didn't bother sitting. Somehow, he didn't think they'd be there much longer.

"Hi, Rusty." Mike looked up at him. "Where've you been?"

He shrugged. "Someone wanted to talk to me." He looked at Danny, who, naturally, got the point immediately and stood up slowly.

"Problem?" he asked.

Rusty considered. "Something," he answered finally.

Danny nodded. "Okay then." He looked back at Mike and David. "We'll see you guys later."

The other boys looked intrigued but didn't ask. At some point it had become accepted that sometimes – most times - they just didn't share. "Later," David agreed.

"Don't be late for class," Mike yelled after them.

They walked off, heading nowhere in particular, but avoiding the crowds, and avoiding anyone who might want to overhear. " _Are_ we gonna be late for class?" Danny asked finally.

"Nah," Rusty assured him. "Not something we need to do something about right now."

Danny nodded. "So? What's up?"

Where to begin. "Brady Taggart stopped me after class. He was crying."

"Embarrassing?" Danny asked lightly.

"Very." He sighed. Really he wouldn't have thought he was the obvious shoulder to cry on, and other than offering tissues and promising to help, he'd had no idea what to do. "We've got to do something about Norris Carrol." Personally he'd prefer something permanent, but he'd settle for solving Brady's immediate problem.

They stopped and leaned against the far wall. Danny frowned. "What's he done now?"

"Stolen Brady's golf clubs. Brady would like them back." Unsurprisingly. Norris was getting a little more ambitious these days. This went a little past stealing lunch money,

Danny blinked. "I'd think so," he agreed, incredulously.

"Needs them by Saturday," Rusty went on. "He and his dad are playing in some father son golf tournament."

"Oh, my dad was talking about entering that," Danny said casually.

Rusty paused. Because that was a little distracting. "You can't play golf," he pointed out.

"He was going to teach me," Danny shrugged. "Guess he was too busy."

As always. He glanced over, but Danny shook his head minutely. Not up for discussion today. He changed the subject. "Brady was crying, Danny." And that was important too.

Danny leaned back and stared up at the sky. "Norris isn't exactly going to be happy with us."

To say the least. "I know." Norris liked to think that he was untouchable. And so far, he seemed to be right.

"I mean, if he took the clubs that's theft," Danny went on. "That's wrong."

Rusty blinked. This coming from Danny? "Well – "

Danny rolled his eyes. " – leaving our own moral grey areas aside, why can't Brady just tell his dad? Or a teacher, or something. I mean, if it was just some toy or something, they'd ignore it, sure. But a set of golf clubs?"

Yeah, that was where it got awkward. "Brady was putting balls in the park when Norris took them. He wasn't supposed to have the clubs out of the house."

"And he doesn't want to get in any trouble." Danny nodded understandingly.

Rusty bit his lip. "He said his dad would kill him, Danny." He spoke quietly. Looked down at the ground.

There was a long, long silence.

"Rus' – "

" – I know." He carried on studying the ground.

"He doesn't mean it the way you would," Danny said gently.

"I _know_." He did. He really did. It just didn't change the way he felt.

"I've met Brady's dad. You've met Brady's dad. Brady _worships_ his dad," Danny went on, and it was all true.

"I know." He scuffed his shoe against the dirt.

Danny sighed. "So we're talking about possibly a lot of consequences and for what?"

Rusty lifted his head and turned to face him. "He was crying. And he said his dad was going to kill him. What do you want to do?"

There was a slight pause. But really, there was only ever going to be one answer. Danny nodded thoughtfully. "We're going to need a good distraction."

*

"I don't get it," Brady said finally

Rusty took a break from watching Danny pretending to be comfortable in the scout uniform and turned to look at the boy sitting next to him in the tree. "What?"

"I don't get how selling Norris Carrol's mom cookies is going to help." Brady sounded a little frustrated.

"We're not selling her cookies. Well," he corrected, as Mrs Carrol answered the door, purse in hand. "We're not _just_ selling her cookies. Danny's going to bring the conversation round to Norris and we're going to find out if we can use her as a threat. Tell Norris we'll tell his mom on him if he doesn't give your clubs back."

Brady frowned. "Why can't you just say that anyway?"

"Some kids aren't scared of their parents for whatever reason," Rusty explained. "No use making empty threats. We need him to take us seriously." He grinned as Danny followed Mrs Carrol into the house. "Also, Danny's going to get a look at the layout of the place. In case we decide we need to pay Norris a visit and make a quick exit."

Brady's eyes were wide. "She invited him inside."

"He asked to use the bathroom," Rusty told him. "People trust scouts. Think it's the shorts."

"But . .. " Brady trailed off uncertainly.

Rusty nodded patiently. "Yes?"

"But Norris is over at the park with my clubs right now!" Brady burst out.

"Uh huh." Rusty kept his tone even. "Him and five other guys. Do me and Danny look like we could fight six guys and walk away afterwards?"

Brady looked sheepish. "No."

"Yeah." Rusty grinned. "Got to use what you've got."

"What have you got?" Brady asked, innocently.

Rusty grinned some more. "We'll let you know."

Danny re-emerged from the house and smiled and waved goodbye to Mrs Carrol. Once the door was shut he strolled over to the base of the tree and looked up. "No good."

"No?" Rusty leapt down lightly. Brady followed, rather more awkwardly.

"Too many people in the house. No way we could sneak in and out unnoticed. And the mom's no good either. He's the apple of her eye. Can do no wrong. Apparently, little Norrie keeps being led astray by bad boys, who then turn around and slander his good name."

Rusty considered that for a few seconds. "Huh."

"Yeah." Danny agreed wholeheartedly.

Rusty frowned. "She's not going to believe – "

" – and he – "

" – knows she won't - "

" – so we'll have to – "

" – oh, we'll have to – "

" – and that means – "

" – a _very_ good distraction," Rusty finished.

For some inexplicable reason Brady was staring at them, open-mouthed.

*

Rusty stood hidden amongst the trees, watching Norris and his friends and waiting for the bang. Brady's clubs were scattered over the ground. They'd been using them as swords or something earlier. Idiots. Oh well; Rusty was pretty sure that golf clubs were designed to withstand a lot.

The first bang sounded a little closer than he would have liked. He rubbed at his mouth; Danny had agreed to stay further away. The last thing they wanted was to get seen, let alone caught. But the noise got the boys' attention at least.

"What was that?"

"Don't know."

"Sounded like an explosion!"

The second bang came almost immediately, a little further away. He watched Norris smile savagely. "Someone's got M80s."

And, just as they'd figured, the boys ran off in the direction of the fireworks. Something new and shiny and they wanted it. Huh. He could almost relate, actually.

When he was sure they were out of the way, he quickly ran over to where they'd been and started gathering the clubs together and putting them into the bag. He couldn't help but wonder why Brady needed so many different clubs anyway. Wasn't as if you changed bat after every swing in baseball. He didn't think.

There were a couple more explosions. Danny keeping them interested.

And then there was yelling and it sounded angry and it sounded triumphant and somehow, something had gone wrong.

He forced the last club into the bag, swung it over his shoulder and started running back into the trees, towards the yelling, towards Danny.

He was just in time to see Danny run past, Norris Carrol close behind, far too close, and when he saw him reach out to tackle Danny, Rusty didn't even think, he just swung the golf bag forwards, right towards Norris' shins and Norris tripped and fell heavily to the ground.

Danny turned back and grinned. "Slight change of plan!" he explained.

Rusty nodded and started running. "You don't say."

"Those are my clubs!" Norris screeched from behind them, and he was getting up, and his friends were barely behind him. And honestly, they couldn't hope to outdistance all of them for long.

"Danny – " he began.

" – I know! Is that bag waterproof?" Danny asked, and Rusty suddenly realised exactly where they were heading. The bridge over Slate's Pond.

"Yep." He grinned. This was a really stupid idea.

Danny was slightly ahead of him, and even as he watched Danny run straight up to the wall at the side and vault over it without even breaking stride, even as he was preparing to do the same six feet further along, and listening for the splash, and the yell that Danny was fine, he was aware of the boys behind them skidding to a halt, shouting in confusion.

His hand was on the cold stone wall. He closed his eyes and jumped off the bridge.

The water was surprisingly cold. Not freezing, not painful, but cold, and dark and it closed over his head and by the time he'd wriggled free of the golf bag, his lungs were starting to burn a little and he wasn't altogether certain where up was. He kicked and struggled in what he thought was the right direction and almost immediately a hand seized his wrist and pulled him up and into the air.

Danny's face was white. Somehow Rusty didn't think it was all the cold.

"Had to let go of the golf bag," he explained, treading water with some difficulty.

"We'll come back for it," Danny said shortly. "Kick your shoes off."

Rusty hesitated. "They're my only pair," he said apologetically. They were on the brink of falling to pieces, and he seriously doubted that they'd survive getting soaked _anyway_ , but they were all he had.

The look that Danny gave him was full of frustration, incredulity and the far too familiar mixture of fear and fury. And the other thing. The thing that he didn't understand and had been there more and more the past few months.

Rusty sighed and kicked his shoes off.

Danny relaxed a little. "You ready to head for shore?" he asked, like the delay had all been Rusty's idea.

"Head for shore?" Rusty repeated incredulously.

Danny grinned slightly. "What?"

"You sound like Popeye." He looked up at the bridge.

"They ran away," Danny told him. "I looked, just after you jumped. Guess they thought – "

" – unexpected ." Rusty agreed.

"You ready?" Danny asked again.

He nodded, and followed as Danny started swimming. And he knew that Danny could have made it in half the time it took them. Knew, even, that Danny was having a hard time slowing his pace enough to match Rusty. But he also knew that the idea of leaving him behind would never so much as cross Danny's mind. And as he half submerged for the sixth time and choked on another mouthful of water, and felt Danny's steadying and concerned arm pulling him back up, he was incredibly relieved. Even more so when the water got shallow enough for Danny to stand and he immediately pulled Rusty along with him, until it finally got shallow enough for him to feel safe.

They pulled themselves out of the water and lay back on the grass to dry off in the sun.

"Slight change of plan?" Rusty asked eventually.

Danny sighed. "Norris has been watching too many war movies. They outflanked me."

"Should have got slow burning fuses," Rusty pondered. "Could have set them off and been nowhere near."

"You know how to do that?" Danny frowned.

"No," Rusty admitted. "But maybe we could have figured it out."

"Maybe," Danny agreed. And he hesitated and there was something else . . .

"What?" Rusty asked, his eyes fixed on Danny.

"I asked if the bag was waterproof," Danny said eventually.

"Uh huh?" Rusty prompted gently.

"I didn't ask if you could swim." And Danny's voice was flat and Rusty could hear the guilt.

"I can swim," he protested. Danny looked at him. "Not that well," he admitted. "Never really had a chance to practice."

Danny nodded. His eyes were dark. "But I didn't ask. I just – "

" – Assumed," Rusty interrupted. "Of course you did. Most people can swim. Better than I can, I mean."

"Most people don't jump off bridges because their friend thinks it's a good idea." Danny wasn't finished feeling guilty.

"Most people don't know what they're missing out on," Rusty said and he smiled. "Nothing bad happened, Danny. Would have been much worse if they caught us. And anyway. I can swim. And if you'd asked, that's what I'd have told you."

Danny nodded and smiled back. "You're going to learn properly."

Rusty blinked. "How many more times are you planning on jumping off the bridge?"

"Until we get it right." He stood up. "Let's go and get Brady's clubs back."

Neither of them was particularly anxious to go swimming again, but the bag had drifted closer to the edge and was now caught and half submerged in a bunch of weeds. They looked at it thoughtfully for a long moment, then Rusty went and found a long stick. "Here," he said, handing it over. "See if you can hook the straps."

Danny grimaced and crouched down and made a vague effort. "Can't reach."

"You'll need to lean further in," Rusty said, dryly. He crouched down beside Danny and started playing absent-mindedly with a handful of the weeds.

Scowling, Danny stretched further, and his sleeve dipped in to the water. "If I fall in, I'm blaming you."

"Think I'll survive," Rusty told him.

There was silence, for a while, and Danny tried and failed to get the bag. "Norris saw us," he said eventually.

"Yeah," Rusty said quietly. There was going to be trouble. Serious trouble. "He's going to – "

" – he's going to _try_ ," Danny corrected and Rusty nodded reassured.

Danny jumped suddenly. "Something brushed my arm! Something slimy!"

Rusty looked in to the pond with all the assurance of someone who hadn't just been touched by something slimy. "Probably a fish. Or a frog."

"Remind me." And Rusty could hear Danny grinding his teeth. "Why am I doing this?"

He smiled sweetly. "You're taller. Longer arms."

Danny's eyes narrowed. "And I'm not the one who dropped the bag."

Rusty looked at him. "You want me to wade out and get it? Even though we don't really know how deep the water might get there, and I could easily fall and drown?"

There was a slight pause. "Thought you could swim?" Danny said lightly.

"Get the bag," Rusty suggested.

Danny grinned and tried again, and this time, to both their surprise, he hooked the stick round the straps and pulled the bag towards them easily.

"Huh," Rusty said, approvingly.

"What are we getting out of all this again?" Danny asked, semi-seriously.

"The respect and admiration of our peers," Rusty suggested.

"Huh," Danny agreed, thoughtfully.

"And to stop Brady crying on me again." That was worth a lot.

*

Brady had been overjoyed to get his golf clubs back, even if they were damper than he remembered them. And he'd also been more than willing to let them use his bathroom to clean up as best they could, but the fact remained that even if they were now clean, their clothes were filthy – probably ruined – and they were both shoeless.

"My parents are not going to be happy if they see this," Danny frowned, looking down at himself.

Rusty nodded. "My dad'll kill me."

There was silence. Consequences loomed.

"Think we could sneak back to yours?" he suggested finally. "Then you'd have something clean at least. And maybe you've got something that'd fit me."

"Clothes maybe," Danny said absently. "Shoes are more difficult."

"Could wear a couple of pair of socks."

"Until when?" Danny demanded and Rusty shrugged, because he didn't know. Mom had used to buy him clothes, or give him money to buy clothes, or obtain clothes from somewhere. Now that she was gone, he honestly didn't know what he was supposed to be doing.

"We need to go shopping," Danny decided suddenly.

Rusty blinked. "You think – "

" – money's easy." Danny shrugged. "Why not?"

Enough money for shoes? And clothes? That was more than they'd normally go after. Especially since he doubted that Danny was thinking about going to the thrift stores that all his clothes always came from. He smiled. "Why not?" he agreed. New clothes. Clothes that he wanted.

*

By the time the bell signalled the end of lunch the next day, Danny was still complaining.

"It's hideous."

Rusty looked down at the shirt fondly. Deep blue with a pattern of bright purple flames and silver flowers. Personally, he thought it was the most amazing shirt he'd ever seen.

"And it's too big for you," Danny continued.

It was. Far too big for him, really. But he'd grow into it, and in the meantime he could wear it over a t-shirt, and the point was he liked it and he'd chosen it for himself and it was new and it was his.

Danny's eyes softened slightly. "We should get to class." They stood up and started to head in opposite directions. "Later?"

"Later," Rusty confirmed. "With pie."

*

The trouble was, even though they'd known trouble was coming for them, they'd assumed it was coming for _them_. It was easy to grow too used to being together. In school, in town, no-one thought of them separately anymore, no-one dealt with them separately anymore. And somehow, Rusty had thought that would be the case here, right up until the point where Norris Carrol and five of his friends were waiting for him round the corner. Should have remembered that Norris didn't go after anyone where they were strong.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Norris asked and there was smugness and triumph and confidence. "A little thief, that's what."

Rusty resisted the urge to point out that the golf clubs were stolen in the first place. Because they needed to keep Brady out of it, and Norris would never dream that they'd have given the clubs back. He was all about himself. They were something else. He sighed and looked bored, and thought about the best way to run. "Shouldn't you be in class right now?"

"I don't like thieves," Norris snarled. "I don't like little runts thinking they can take my stuff. I'm going to teach you it's wrong to steal."

"You should think very carefully about what you're doing right now." It wasn't an idle threat.

"What are you going to do?" Norris sneered and leaned in close to him. He did his best not to step back. "Run and get your mommy?"

He blinked and said nothing. The wall pressed close behind him.

"Oh, that's right. She left you, didn't she? Poor little baby." Norris smiled and his friends laughed. "My dad says she's standing on a street corner down at the shore."

Rusty knew what that meant. And he knew that Norris was just parroting what he'd heard from adults.. And he didn't know if it was true. He kept his face blank and ignored the pain and the emptiness.

Norris seemed angered by his lack of reaction and took a step closer and it took so much to suppress the automatic flinch. "She went running off and she left you behind. She didn't want you. Your own mother didn't want you."

He forced a smile. "Not like your mommy. Right? _Norrie_?"

The punch was immediate and expected, and that wasn't what was strange.

Rusty put a surprised hand to his mouth. He blinked and looked at Norris in astonishment. "You hit like a girl!"

It hadn't hurt nearly as much as he'd been expecting. But looking at the clouds of shock and anger crossing Norris' face, pointing that out might not have been the most sensible thing he'd ever done.

He quickly kicked Norris in the shin and when he hopped backwards with a howl of pain and outrage, Rusty took the few seconds advantage to scramble backwards, over the wall and out of the school.

He ran, and they didn't chase him.

He could circle round, come back in the other gate. Being late for class was the least of his problems right now. This wasn't the end of the matter. He was sure of that.

*

Despondently Rusty followed the rest of his class to the games field. Mr Barclay had done a nice little piece of stand-up about him actually taking part, for once. Rusty couldn't help but think that teachers should have to pass some sort of test before they were allowed to use humour. So he missed a lot of classes. It wasn't like he didn't want to take part. Actually, to be honest, he probably didn't want to take part. But he always had a note that always appeared to be signed by Dad. Okay. It had been a few weeks. But he couldn't help it. Baggy clothes were so much more forgiving than gym kit, so much more able to hide a multitude of sins.

"Psssst! Hey! Ryan!"

Sounded like someone was trying to get his attention. Someone who clearly failed on the finer points of subtlety.

He turned round to see Buzz Fairley beckoning to him from behind the sports hall. Okay. Seemed like soccer could wait.

Casually he dropped back, behind the last of the stragglers, and when he was sure no-one would notice, he darted over to where Buzz was waiting, less than patiently.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Ocean's looking for you," Buzz said immediately, and he was frowning and Rusty's breath caught in his throat. Danny.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Is he okay?"

" _He's_ fine," Buzz said, glaring at Rusty's lip. "Frantic, and about to get a month of detention, but fine."

He shook his head, not understanding. "What?"

"Him and me were just in math class. And Norris Carrol was shooting his mouth off." Buzz was looking at him pointedly.

"Oh." Rusty understood. It hadn't occurred to him that Norris would tell Danny. He'd still been stuck on figuring out how _he_ was going to tell Danny.

"Yeah," Buzz said heavily. Again his gaze wandered to Rusty's lip. "Guess it's true."

There were more important things to focus on. "Where is he?"

"Went to check your usual hangouts. I said I'd go see if you were where you were meant to be." And there was a question in his voice.

"Wasn't a big thing." Rusty dismissed it. Because it hadn't been. The idea of cutting class hadn't even crossed his mind. "Thanks, Buzz."

Buzz shrugged. "Don't mention it."

He ran off as quickly as he could, because Danny needed to know he was all right, as soon as possible. Eventually he found Danny at the tree down past the cafeteria. And Danny looked up as soon as he turned the corner and his eyes were miserable and fearful and one hand gripped Rusty's shoulder tightly, and the other brushed over the cut lip.

"I'm okay," Rusty said, reassuringly. "Danny, I'm fine."

Danny nodded. "He said he beat you up. He said he made you cry."

"He didn't. He was lying." He could barely even remember the last time he'd cried for real. It had been a long time ago.

"I know that. Of course I know that. But I . . . I didn't know what he _had_ done." And he hated the remains of the panic in Danny's voice. Hated the thought that it was so easy for Danny to be hurt. Because of him.

He sighed. "He said a few things. About Mom, mostly. I called him Norrie, he hit me. Once. I kicked him and ran away. It was nothing, Danny, honestly." He'd had so much worse. Even within the last month he'd had so much worse.

"He said.." D.anny shook his head. "I wanted to kill him. Right there in math class."

Rusty smiled. "Bet Mr Kapp would have had something to say about that," he said lightly.

"Yeah." Danny's voice was quiet.

"That's what he wanted," Rusty pointed out gently. "You in trouble."

There was a long pause. "He saw," Danny said eventually.

Rusty grimaced. "Yeah."

Danny sighed. "He got a reaction," he admitted.

"He's going to keep trying," Rusty agreed.

Danny nodded. "We need to do something."

There was a long silence and they both thought.

"Wanna skip the rest of the afternoon?" Danny suggested. At this point, going back to class didn't sound like much of an option.

"Need to go pick up my stuff first," Rusty answered. They could sneak back into the locker room easy enough though.

Danny looked at him for a second.

"What?" he demanded, a little irritably.

"What did he say about your Mom?" Danny asked quietly.

Damn. "It's not important," he said, dismissively.

Danny disagreed. "It's important."

He sighed. "Just stuff. That she didn't care about me. That she's working a street corner, somewhere."

Danny's hand rubbed his shoulder gently.

He sighed again. "I've heard it all before, Danny." That and worse.

And Danny, who knew where he'd heard it before and when he'd heard it before and from _whom_ he he'd heard it before, said nothing.

*

The next morning, they still hadn't thought of anything. Even though they'd spent most of the previous evening thinking and plotting and planning and eating pie at Mabel's. They just hadn't had any good ideas. They were completely stuck. And that was unusual.

The moment they walked through the school gate, he could tell something was up. There were people staring at them. Or, rather, there were people staring at _him_. And that was a long way off being comfortable. He rubbed at his lip thoughtfully. Couldn't be that. It was barely swollen. The cut was barely noticeable. And if people paid attention each time he was hurt, well, they'd probably never stop.

He glanced at Danny. Oh, he'd noticed. Rusty struggled not to smile at the way that Danny was walking a step ahead of him, trying to shield him from the looks. The perfect bodyguard.

Danny looked at him and there was a distinct lack of amusement. "What's going on?" he hissed.

Rusty shrugged. He had no idea.

"Right," Danny nodded. "Guess - "

" - Direct approach," Rusty agreed.

They looked round and stepped in front of the first person they saw that they knew well enough.

"Good morning, Doug," they said in unison.

Doug blinked at them and then his eyes widened. "Hey! Rusty! Did you really get in a fight with Norris Carrol yesterday?"

So that was what this was about. He shrugged. "Wouldn't exactly call it a fight."

"Man, he's, like, twice your height!" Doug chattered excitedly and Rusty silently made sure that Danny knew exactly what he would be letting himself in for if he laughed. "And you really told him he hit like a girl?"

He frowned. "He does." And Danny tensed at his side, and Rusty didn't know why.

"Yeah, right." Doug rolled his eyes. "I got in a fight with him a few months back. Well. He beat me up, anyway. He punches like a tank!"

Rusty hadn't heard of many tanks with fists, but he let it go. "And that's what everyone's talking about?"

"Yeah! It's all over school." Doug grinned. "It's awesome!"

Awesome. Right.

Doug looked over his shoulder. "Oops. Gotta go! See you when I see you." He scampered off.

Rusty glanced sideways at Danny and shrugged. "Least we know."

"Right." Danny sounded far away, and there was something that Rusty was missing.

"You think he was holding back?" he asked. "It really didn't hurt that much."

Danny shook his head tightly. "No. He wasn't holding back."

He frowned. "Then what - "

" - he hits like a thirteen year old, Rus'!" The words fell out of Danny like he hated every last implication.

Oh. Right. He tried a light tone. "Who'd have thought - "

" - Don't." Danny shook his head and got himself back under control. "It matters. A lot."

There was silence and Rusty didn't know how to make it better.

Presently Danny sighed, and they started to walk towards the building.

People were still looking. He could only hope that they got over it soon. He really, really, wasn't comfortable.

And then, suddenly, they were face to face with Norris Carrol. And people were whispering and pointing at him. And he was staring at them. And Rusty braced himself for the counter, and was aware of Danny doing the same, and then Norris turned on his heel and walked off as quickly as he could.

Rusty blinked and turned to Danny. "Can you - " he began, and then he stopped. Because Danny was still staring after Norris. And there was a familiar look shining on his face. Rusty started to smile. "What are you thinking?"

Danny grinned. "Can't be scary and funny at the same time."

That was... "You want to - "

" - I want to," Danny agreed. "What have we got?"

And Rusty grinned back. "He didn't like being called a girl."

Danny nodded. "He's a mommy's boy."

"And he's got a crush on Mrs Mercater," Rusty added. That should be enough to be going on with.

"Really?" Danny blinked.

Rusty nodded. He'd heard it from several unimpeachable sources.

"Well," Danny considered. "No accounting for tastes."

"You've got gym class this afternoon with Mr Barclay?" It wasn't really a question; he already knew the answer.

Danny nodded anyway. "Yeah. You thinking - "

" - he'd read it out," Rusty agreed.

"You sure?"

He was sure. "He always reads my notes aloud. To make fun of Dad's spelling. If Norris drops something - "

" - he'll read it." Danny smiled. "I can get his literature homework for lunchtime."

"Good." It would be a lot harder for Norris to deny it if it was in his own handwriting.

Danny frowned. "He reads out your notes?"

"Yeah," Rusty nodded. "Started putting in spelling mistakes just to keep him amused."

"He's as much a bully as Norris," Danny said, with a touch of anger.

Rusty shrugged. Probably. But that wasn't their problem. Norris was.

*

Lunchtime, and he stared between Norris' homework and the blank sheet of paper. Three pages of practicing, and he thought he had the handwriting down. "What do you write in a love letter, anyway?"

Danny blinked. "Don't know. I've never written one."

"You're a lot of use," he complained, lightly.

There was a pause, and Danny looked like he was thinking. "How about . . . Dear Mrs Mercater. Every time I see you I think about how beautiful you are. I know you're married, but would you be my girlfriend? I promise to get better marks in History. Love, Norris."

Rusty smirked. "You sure you haven't done this before?"

"Why would I want to?" Danny demanded.

And Rusty's smirk widened into a grin. "Why would you want Sarah to notice you in - "

" - one day you'll understand," Danny said, loftily.

He shook his head and Danny laughed, and Rusty looked down and wrote out the letter in Norris' best handwriting.

*

By the end of the day, no-one was looking at Rusty anymore. No-one was talking about him. Instead all the gossips were discussing Norris' little love note and his expression of bewildered embarrassment, and the silly voice that Mr Barclay had put on to read it.

First stage managed and in the evening Rusty and Danny were relaxing in Danny's sitting room, working on the second stage. Danny's parents were out at some dinner party or something. They weren't expected back till late, and Rusty was planning on staying over. He'd stopped in to his place immediately after school, and Dad's friends had been over and the apartment had been full of smoke and empty bottles and malicious laughter. There was nothing there that he was anxious to risk going through again.

He pricked his finger on the needle for the third time and sucked on it till the bleeding stopped. The last thing he wanted was to get blood on the lacey handkerchief. Danny's mom might notice if they had to steal more than one.

Danny was looking at him, and there was still a definite amusement in the air.

"What?" he sighed, taking his finger out of his mouth, momentarily.

"Seriously, when did you learn to sew?" Danny asked, a grin in his voice. "And why?"

He shrugged. "Comes in handy," he explained. "Makes clothes last longer. And I guess Mom taught me. Kind of. I watched her mend Dad's favourite shirt after I ripped it, one time. And it seemed useful so I tried it myself."

Danny was still looking at him, but the amusement had faded. "After _you_ ripped your dad's shirt?" he asked and his voice was bitter and weary.

Rusty frowned. "Yeah."

Danny sighed. "You sure that's what happened?"

"Yeah." He remembered the punishment distinctly. "I was hiding under my bed and when he had to drag me out the sleeve ripped." He suddenly understood what Danny was getting at and he looked down at the ground. "Oh."

"Yeah," Danny agreed, softly.

" _He_ ripped the shirt," Rusty said, after a long moment, and he looked up at Danny. "Right?"

"Right." And Danny's smile was sad, but it was there and that was the main thing. "Show me."

He crossed over to the sofa and sat beside Danny. "You sure?"

"You said it comes in useful," Danny answered and Rusty smiled and set about teaching Danny how to sew.

*

They waited with the handkerchief until Norris, and his gang of minions, tried to confront the two of them in the middle of the corridor. Obviously he wanted to prove once and for all who was tough.

And he started off by pushing Danny, and Rusty had to force himself not to start the fight that he couldn't finish. Instead he dropped the handkerchief and bent, picked it up and handed it back to Norris.

Lacey, pink and embroidered with flowers. He made sure everyone around them got a good look at it. "You dropped this," he said innocently, and he pretended he couldn't hear, and didn't understand, the giggles.

Norris flushed red and stepped back. "That's not mine!" he declared loudly.

"Really?" Rusty's eyes were wide and he studied the handkerchief carefully. "But it fell out of your pocket. And it's got your initials sewn on it. Look!" he thrust it at Norris who took yet another step back and refused to take it. So he showed it around the other people in the corridor instead. "See? It says 'NC'."

"He's right," John agreed. "Must be Norris'."

And the laughter grew louder and Norris retreated in confusion and Rusty caught Danny's eye and grinned happily.

*

Norris left them alone for the rest of the day. And the next day. The day after that he tried to trip Rusty in the corridor and they papered his locker with pictures of Mrs Mercater. He had to explain himself to Principal Mallie. Which, Rusty was prepared to concede, was probably extraordinarily difficult. But not half as difficult as getting the pictures had been.

The weekend passed slowly; Danny's parents took him to see his grandmother and it rained hard enough that most people stayed indoors, making his Saturday quest for money that bit more difficult.

He was happy when Monday morning dawned, happy to see Danny waiting outside the school gates and even happy when Danny took one look at him and handed over a bag of chips and waited and glared until he'd finished them.

"What's next," he asked lightly, when he was done.

Danny shrugged. "Wait and see. He might have - "

" - I doubt it." Rusty shook his head. Didn't seem that likely that Norris had learnt anything.

With a nod Danny conceded. They had more.

*

They didn't see Norris till lunch when he walked up to them, followers noticeably absent, as they were in the middle of discussing ways that slow burning fuses on M80s might be used. He slammed his lunchbox down on the table next to them and leaned over Danny.

"You think you're pretty smart, don't you Ocean?" he hissed. "You think I don't know what you've been doing?"

"What have we been doing?" Danny asked a slight smile on his face. Rusty took the opportunity to slip the note from his pocket into Norris' lunchbox. He knew better than to ignore the slightest moment of distraction.

"Ha!" Norris waved a finger in Danny's face. "You hear that? You said 'we'. What, can't either of you think for yourselves?"

Danny looked surprised. "You know what thinking is?"

Norris' face turned red and Rusty glanced over to the side of the cafeteria. "Mr Kapp's looking this way," he warned.

"This isn't over," Norris snarled.

Rusty smiled. "No. It isn't," he agreed and for a second Norris actually looked nervous.

"We'll see you around," Danny assured him brightly, and they turned back to their lunches and didn't watch him walk away.

Danny sighed, after a couple of seconds. "You're right," he told Rusty. "He just doesn't learn." He glanced over and gave Buzz a meaningful look. Buzz grinned widely and got to his feet.

Rusty sighed and rubbed absently at his wrist. "How long do you want to keep this going for?" he asked.

There was a pause and when Rusty looked round Danny was staring at the bruises on his arm. He pulled his sleeve down quickly. Danny shook his head. "He can't be more stubborn than us."

Rusty nodded. That probably wasn't humanly possible.

There was a sudden commotion over to their side and they turned round to watch the show. Buzz was standing behind Norris, clutching a piece of paper in his hand. "What's this!" he yelled, gleefully, and everyone in the cafeteria turned to look. "Another little love note for Mrs Mercater?"

Norris looked confused but he made a leap for the note. Obviously he wasn't quite as much an idiot as he looked. "Give that here!"

Buzz took a step back and sniffed at the paper. "Perfumed!"

Rusty turned to Danny and raised an eyebrow. "Perfumed? Really?"

Danny grinned. "Splashed some of Mom's on it."

"Aw. It's from your Mommy," Buzz crowed, staring at the note. "That's so sweet."

Norris' eyes widened and Rusty felt a little sorry for him. Just a little.

"Dearest Little Norrie," Buzz read and a titter of amusement spread through the listening crowd. Little Norrie was a name that was probably going to stick. "I hope you enjoy the lunch that I've made for you today. I made all your favourites and I made them with an extra special ingredient. Love. Please, please eat it all up so that you will grow up to be big and strong like your daddy. I will be missing you all day. Lots of love and kisses, your loving mommkins."

Rusty blinked at Danny. "You have a seriously warped imagination. You do know that, right?"

"Yeah," Danny agreed.

The laughter spread throughout the crowd. And when Norris glared at them, he looked more than a little uncertain.

*

Three days went by and Norris left them alone. Left _them_ alone. But rumours had a way of spreading, and it wasn't as if there was no-one else in the school that was capable of putting two and two together, and they weren't absolutely surprised when Cameron came running up to them one lunchtime and demanded that they come save Brady from Norris Carrol.

Danny sighed and stood up. "What does he expect us to do?" he asked.

"Something! Anything!" Cameron pleaded, dancing from one foot to the other.

Rusty grinned. "Come on. Let's go do the voodoo that we do so well."

"Doesn't rhyme," Danny pointed out and they followed Cameron quickly.

There was a semicircle of people gathered around Norris and Brady. Rusty studied them quickly. He could see Mike and John and Alice and Johnny and Taggart and Vanessa and others he vaguely knew. And they were uneasy. Unhappy. And they all liked him and Danny better than they liked Norris. Now was a better time than most, and he nodded at Danny. Show time.

They pushed through the crowd. Norris had Brady cornered and was screaming. "What did you call me?"

Brady looked terrified, and still managed to sound defiant when he choked out "Norrie. I called you Norrie."

Huh. Rusty was seriously impressed. He grinned reasuringly at Brady over Norris' shoulder and walked to take up his position on Norris' right. "Think he called you Norrie, Norrie."

Danny smiled at him from Norris' left. "Norrie Norrie?"

"So annoying they named him twice," Rusty nodded.

"You stay out of this," Norris snarled.

They ignored him.

"Morning, Brady," Danny said lazily. "How are you today?"

Brady stole a glance at Norris. "Been better," he stammered, bravely.

Rusty nodded. "That's - "

" - oh, a real shame," Danny agreed.

"He took my lunch money," Brady said, suddenly.

Danny smiled and walked past Norris to stand next to Rusty. He held up a wallet.

"Hey, that's mine!" Norris was openmouthed and checking his pockets.

"Of course it is," Rusty agreed, walking past on Norris' other side, and Norris spun round to check on him.

Danny threw the wallet over Norris' head and Rusty caught it and turned to face Brady. "How much?"

"Eighty cents," Brady said, wide-eyed, and Rusty rifled through the wallet and gave him his money back.

He paused with the wallet in his hands and shook his head sadly at Norris. "Honestly, didn't you learn from last time?" He pulled a picture of Mrs Mercater out of Norris' wallet and passed it round the crowd.

Danny sighed sympathetically. "She just doesn't like you that way, Norrie."

"Puppy love," Rusty added. He'd heard someone on TV say it the other week.

"That's not mine!" Norris blustered.

Danny shrugged. "It was in your wallet."

"Here," Rusty said helpfully, and stepped forwards and replaced the wallet in Norris' jacket pocket, accidentally knocking out a little doll in the process. "Ooops."

"I've never seen that before!" Norris claimed, wild-eyed. And to be fair he was telling the truth; Danny had planted it when he lifted the wallet.

"It's so cute!" Alice exclaimed, picking it up. "It's eyes move and everything! Norrie, where did you get it!"

"It's not mine!" Norris howled, taking a step towards her, and immediately Danny and Rusty were standing in his way.

"You don't - "

" - get to - "

" - do that," they said quietly and Norris blanched.

"I wasn't going to . . . " he protested weakly.

"Keep it that way," Danny told him.

He stared at them, desperation in his eyes. "What do you want?" he whispered.

They looked at each other for a long moment. "We don't like bullies," Danny said eventually.

Norris shook his head. "I'm not a - "

" - yes. You are," Rusty's voice was hard. "You're going to leave us alone."

"You're going to leave everyone alone," Danny expanded.

Rusty nodded. "Or else - "

" - every last little dirty secret - "

" - every embarrassing thought you ever have - "

" - is going to be public property."

Their voices wound together, and Norris looked from one to the other, clearly unnerved, clearly defeated. He nodded quickly and brushed past them, brushed past the other kids and vanished.

Rusty looked at Danny and there was relief and there was happiness.

That could have gone so wrong so very, very easily.

*

His head was on the counter at Mabel's and Danny's voice washed over him.

"If he'd fought, we would have lost. "

Yeah.

"He's bigger than you. He's bigger than me."

Yeah. He was.

"All he had to do was . . . " Danny trailed off. "If he'd been just a little less concerned about what people think . . . "

If he'd been able to believe that they could risk everything and not mind losing.

"You think we could solve anything else that way?" Danny mused. "I mean, lots of people care what other people think. Right?"

He didn't say anything. Didn't even move.

"Yeah," Danny sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"It's getting dark," he said vacantly. "I'll have to go home soon,"

Danny sighed again. "Yeah."

There was silence.


	21. Two stories with some understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline
> 
> 1\. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.  
> 2\. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.  
> 3\. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve  
> 4\. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
> 5\. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
> 6\. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
> 7\. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.  
> 8\. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
> 9\. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen  
> 10\. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen  
> 11\. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen  
> 12\. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen  
> 13\. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'  
> 14\. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'  
> 15\. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen  
> 16\. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen  
> 17\. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen  
> 18\. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.

It was ridiculous, Patricia decided. Completely ridiculous. It had been three days. Just three days! That was no time at all and she knew it. Gina was right. Lucy was right. She was being silly and she was overreacting. There was no need for her to be miserable, just because she hadn't seen Danny for three days. She stared down at the book in front of her and tried to focus. The project was due at the end of the month, after all.

Except it wasn't just that she missed him. Danny was sick, and she hadn't seen him for three days. It had started off with a head cold and a sore throat that had, as Rusty had earnestly assured him, made him sound like Donald Duck. And it hadn't got better. Not all week, and on Friday, Rusty had apparently had more than enough and had dragged him to the doctor who had diagnosed the flu and had prescribed bed rest and lots of it. And the last time Patricia had seen him had been the Thursday night, when he'd fallen asleep the moment she'd left the room to make him a hot drink. She'd smiled and kissed him and covered him with the blanket and pretended she didn't hear when he sleepily thanked someone else. Since then, every time she went round to his house, Danny's mom had refused to let her in. And she'd gone as soon as Rusty told her on Friday, and three times on Saturday, twice on Sunday and immediately after school today. She wasn't fussing. She wasn't getting a chance to; every time she rang the bell, Danny's mom was there, scowling and saying that Danny was sleeping and too sick for visitors. And that was reasonable, of course it was. She'd never put her loneliness over Danny's health. It was just that she couldn't help but wonder if _Danny_ might not be lonely. And she wondered if Danny's mom was letting Rusty in. Somehow, she doubted it. From everything she'd seen, and everything Danny had inadvertently let slip, she really doubted it. She sighed; it wasn't fair. None of it was.

The librarian walked round the corner, scowling and pointedly turning off the lights. Patricia blinked; it couldn't be eight already? She checked - it was. So much for getting all her research done. She closed the book, put it back on the shelf, with an apologetic smile at the librarian, and walked out the library. The door was immediately locked behind her. Ah. It was like that.

She slowed at the top of the steps, squinting into the dusk. There was a figure, half slumped over, sitting on the bottom step. And there was no sign of her dad's car. She hated waiting at night. Nervous, she bit her lip and glanced back at the building over her shoulder. Nearly all the lights were out now. There was no help there. Keeping a wide berth, she walked down the rest of the steps, glancing sideways all the time, watching and scared.

Of all things, it was the red sneakers that she suddenly recognised. She dashed over and dropped to her knees beside him. "Rusty?" She was afraid to shake him. Afraid to move him without knowing what was going on. "Rusty!"

"Patricia?" He sounded confused. He sounded like the child he wasn't. But he looked up at her, blinking, and even in the darkness she could see he'd been attacked. Could see his face was swollen and purple and bloodied.

"Yes," she agreed, her voice shaking a little. "Stay there, I'm going to call an ambulance." She looked round, trying to think where the nearest payphone was.

He struggled, managing to sit up straight."What?" His hand went to his face. "Oh." He smiled at her, open and reassuring. "'S nothing. Was just waiting for Johnny or Brady or someone."

He sounded so definite. Like he thought she was overreacting. But his words were falling over each other and he was trembling so hard. "Are you sure?"

There was a pause and his voice seemed to come from far away. "Course." He smiled again. "I've had worse."

' _When _?'__ was on the tip of her tongue, but she choked the question back and tried to concentrate. "There's no-one else in the library, Rusty. I was the last out."

Rusty sighed and seemed to waver a little more into focus. "They said they were going to study after school. Guess they must have finished up early and gone home."

"Do you want to go there?" Maybe one of his friends could get him to hospital. She didn't know what else to do. But he was here and she was here, and he was hurt, and even if she was a different sort of person, even if that somehow didn't mean anything to her, he was _Danny's_. And that left her with a responsibility.

"No," he said immediately. "No, I don't."

That was one plan gone. "My dad's going to be here any moment," she suggested. "You could come to mine. My dad wouldn't mind." Dad would be concerned and understanding and she knew he'd know the right thing to do, she just knew it.

He hesitated. She could see him hesitate. Please, please, please.

"Mom used to be a nurse," she added persuasively. "She could help you."

He shook his head slowly. "Thanks. No. I'll be all right. I'll head home in a bit."

She watched as he got to his feet and she saw how much effort it took and she saw that he was shaking and she knew it wasn't cold, and she stepped forwards, reached out a hand to help him, but he just looked at it and shook his head again.

It was obvious, for a few moments, that all he had the strength to do was stand there, clinging onto the wall for dear life.

"You need a doctor, Rusty," she said gently.

He shook his head but didn't answer. She didn't think he could.

"Please," she begged.

He looked up at her and his eyes were clouded. "Where's Danny?" he asked.

Her breath caught in her throat. She wished he was here. More than anything, she wished he was here. "Danny's sick, remember?"

"Yeah." He took a deep breath and he stood a little taller and a little steadier. "Yeah. Sorry, Pat. Spaced out there for a minute." His voice wasn't shaking anymore and she thought it was real. He smiled. "He misses you."

"I miss him too," she said, almost absently, studying him, looking for answers, looking for who knew what.

"He's terrible at being sick," Rusty went on fondly. "Always thinks he's missing out on something. Don't tell him," he added abruptly.

She blinked. "What?"

"Don't tell him about this," Rusty explained. "He worries."

And she cringed, a little, at the reminder that there was a 'this', that there had always been a 'this' and that they weren't reckless and clever purely for their own amusement. "Don't you think he should?" she pointed out carefully. She'd seen how they were together. Long before Danny ever asked her out. They were wound up in each other in ways that no-one else could ever dream of understanding.

He smiled again, and his arms were wrapped round his chest and she could see him trembling. "Just need to sit down. Get a coffee, or something and I'll be fine. 'S not as bad as it looks. Nothing broken."

She swallowed. "Mabel's is just two blocks over. She'll be closing up now, but I'm sure she'd - "

" - no," he interrupted firmly. "She fusses. Almost as bad as Danny. There's a place round the corner that's open late. I can stay there till it gets dark enough."

Dark enough for what, she wondered. "Okay. I'll buy you a coffee."

He shook his head but didn't seem able to speak for a long moment."You should get home," he managed at last through clenched jaw.

There was a limit to how much nonsense she was prepared to put up with. "You think Danny would like it if I left you alone?" she shot, well aware that it was a low blow.

He smiled and just about managed to focus on her. "You think Danny would like it if you went gallivanting all over town with other boys?"

Other boys . . . it took her a moment. She grinned. "Oh, I think he'd trust you."

"Hope so," he said, wearily. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered packet of cigarettes. After a couple of attempts he managed to get one out of the packet, and she could see how hard his hands were shaking as he struggled with the lighter.

She gently reached forwards and took it out of his hand and pretended she didn't see him tense. "If he wasn't sick, you'd be at his place right now, wouldn't you?" she asked, lighting his cigarette for him.

He nodded and inhaled gratefully. "He's supposed to rest. Not worry."

And that was ridiculous. It really was. "He is going to notice eventually you know. Unless you have super powers."

"I do," he said seriously. "I do have super powers."

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

"Usual." He shrugged and his face stilled in a way that suggested he'd regretted it. He took a long drag and managed to speak again. "Walk down the wrong street, call the wrong person a chicken and see what happens."

"Uh huh." She let it go and turned round sharply at the sound of a car. Dad's car, and she was overjoyed.

"Thanks, Pat," Rusty said quietly behind her.

She didn't understand what he was thanking her for, but there were more important things on her mind. "Just let me go talk to him, okay? He can give you a lift wherever you want." Actually, it would either be back to theirs or to the hospital. But she didn't think she should tell him that.

Dad smiled at her and wound down the window when she knocked. "Dad! Listen, my . . ." She hesitated momentarily, unsure of exactly how to describe the relationship. 'My boyfriend's unofficial little brother' seemed slightly complicated. " . . my friend is hurt and he needs help so can we take him back to Mom, or to hospital or something?"

He looked worried. "Of course. Where is he?"

"He's right there," she frowned, and she turned round.

Rusty was nowhere in sight.

*

Buzz hated Tuesdays mornings. Actually, Buzz just hated mornings generally. Or at least school mornings. The guys upstairs had had a party last night and the very last thing he needed was to find himself surrounded by hordes of screaming kids, fighting to get into school. He already had a hangover. This wasn't helping.

He tried glaring down at a couple of the loudest ones and their terrified expressions made him happy. He loved having a reputation and the balls to back it up. Wasn't like any of the munchkins knew that he'd never lay a finger on them. Say what you like; he wasn't like that. Unfortunately he was so busy being intimidating that he wasn't paying close enough attention to where he was going, and he walked bang into another kid who'd stopped dead just in front of him. And he was about to open his mouth and give the little runt what for, when he recognised him and paused.

Rusty Ryan. Stood in the middle of the sidewalk, his head turned towards the main entrance. Not even noticing that Buzz had just fallen over him. Well, that couldn't be good.

It was always odd to see him on his own. Buzz must have seen him alone a thousand times, but somehow, when he thought about Rusty Ryan, he thought about Danny Ocean. And he'd known Rusty _longer_ – they'd lived all their lives in the same neighbourhood after all, and he could remember his older sister bringing home an unattended blond toddler and feeding him candy while Buzz and Chip taught him to swear - and he knew Ocean _better_ – they had a couple of the same classes and they'd hung out a bit when they were kids and for those bewildering weeks, a few years back, when Ocean and Rusty had had that mysterious falling out – but still, he found himself thinking of them in the same breath. Just seemed like they'd always been together. And Rusty was probably the only kid that age that Buzz would recognise. Certainly the only one he liked, let alone admired.

Curiously he glanced in the direction of the school; to where Rusty was looking. The only unusual thing he could see was Mr Wishart, standing on the steps, frowning in their direction.

"Rusty?" he called, confused, and Rusty looked round sharply and Buzz grimaced. The kid was beat to hell. Again. Wasn't like that was anything new. Didn't mean that Buzz approved.

There was a second, and an unidentifiable look and then Rusty gave him what might have been described as an apologetic smile, and punched him in the jaw.

Buzz stared, only vaguely aware of the people around them stopping, forming into a circle, the steady chanting - _Fight, fight, fight, fight_. His hand went to his face. It didn't hurt. Not that he'd have expected a punch from a scrawny thirteen year old to hurt. But it really, really hadn't. It had been done purely for the look of the thing. And he looked over Rusty's shoulder to Mr Wishart, heading towards them now, and he looked at Rusty's face, dark purple and swollen, and he shook his head. "No. Rusty, no."

There was that look again, and then Rusty grinned. "What's the matter, Buzz?" His voice was raised. Playing to the crowd. "Scared?" He stepped a little closer and whispered. "Please, Buzz. I need your help."

'I' need your help. Not words that you heard from either of them very often. They'd spoke in plurals as long as Buzz had known them. And that had been a long time. And they almost never needed help. But he couldn't do this. He really couldn't do this. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can't."

Rusty punched him in the chest. Little harder than last time. Still not intended to hurt. "Please," he begged, desperation in his voice.

"Come on, Buzz! Kill him!" He glanced over to Norris Carrol and made a mental note to rip the bastard's head off at the first opportunity. So many people chanting for blood. Couldn't they see there'd been enough already?

Mr Wishart was running now, heading for the gate, and he looked at the pleading expression on Rusty's face and he hated himself. He clenched his fist and swung.

The 'fight' was short. And Buzz hated every punch.

*

They were sitting outside the office. Apparently the principal was busy and after a couple of scowls and a few disappointed looks they'd been left completely on their own. Told to think about what they'd done, like naughty children. And Buzz was angry and Rusty was just sitting there, swinging his legs and using the cold compress the nurse had given him to smear the trickle of blood from his mouth and eyebrow over his face, as authentically as possible.

Rusty had walked into the punch. _He'd walked into the punch_. Buzz had seen him do it. Had seen him watch and calculate and throw himself in front of Buzz's fist so that instead of the glancing blow that Buzz had meant it to be, it had split his lip all over again. Couple of seconds later he'd done the exact same thing again; re-opening the graze over his eyebrow.

With a start, he found himself choking back a laugh. Sure. Rusty had walked into his fist. It had been an accident. Hell, maybe he'd even had it coming. That was a good one. Simple fact was, he'd just beat up a skinny, battered, thirteen year old kid. Wasn't nothing was going to make that better.

"You okay?" Rusty asked, suddenly.

He gritted his teeth. "Fine. You?"

Rusty shrugged and smiled, painfully. "Been better."

"I'll bet," he muttered.

"Been a while since I was here," Rusty commented, idly.

"In daylight anyway. Right?" He knew damned well what they got up to. Hell, coupla months back, he and some guys had broken into the school themselves, just to mess about. They'd had a couple of bottles, couple of spray cans. Nothing really planned. And then the cops had shown up, and there'd been lights and sirens and he'd been panicking, already thinking about what he was going to tell his mom, and then, suddenly, Danny and Rusty - dressed all in black, silent and confident - had stepped out of the administration office and had quietly led them out and away from the cops. Then they'd been given a quick lesson on basic breaking and entering. Not using flashlights near windows. Not leaving doors obviously open. Always having another escape route planned. From anyone else it might have seemed patronising. From those two there had just been amusement and – what was that stupid phrase Chip always used? Oh yeah. Joie de vivre. That was them.

Rusty grinned and said nothing. Buzz watched him rubbing at his knuckles, trying to make them look a little more scraped.

"Stop that," he said, harshly.

There was a pause. "It'll look better if I look like I've hit you."

Buzz gritted his teeth. "You could've done that by actually hitting me." Not that he thought for a second that the kid could have done any damage. But it might have made him feel a little better.

Rusty sighed and leaned forwards. "Look. They see me looking like this and not looking like I attacked you, they're going to paint a picture we don't want them to paint."

"Right." They would make him out to be the sort of guy who got his kicks out of beating on little kids who couldn't hit back.

"I'm going to make sure you don't get in trouble," Rusty assured him. "We got a lot of witnesses that I started it."

"And they're going to take one look at you and think that I finished it," Buzz pointed out.

He was fixed with an appraising look. "It was my fault. You won't get into trouble."

"Right," he nodded. And the terrible thing was, he had no doubt that Rusty would be able to sit there, looking like he'd been hit by a truck, and convince the adults that it was all his own fault. And he had no doubt that Rusty would go on to convince the rest of the kids in school that the fight had been a fight, not an attack. Wasn't anyone that was going to think worse of Buzz for this except himself. (And Ocean.) He sighed and glanced sideways. "You know they're going to suspend you for this, right?"

"Hoping to talk them down to a few detentions," Rusty said with a broad, innocent smile. As if butter wouldn't melt.

He wouldn't be surprised if the manipulative little bastard didn't manage it, either. But that didn't actually change the point. "They're going to want to talk to your dad."

Rusty nodded slowly, and the smile vanished and Buzz watched as he took a deep breath and he pretended not to notice when he winced and his arm wrapped tightly around his ribs. Had to leave the kid his pride.

His lips were dry. With a sudden thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his hip flask. He took a quick drink and, trying to act casual, he pushed it towards Rusty. "You want some?"

Rusty looked at him thoughtfully. "Thanks." He took a drink and took a long and shuddering breath and a couple of the lines of pain in his face seemed to vanish. "Thanks." He looked down at the flask. "'s nice."

"Was my grandpa's," Buzz told him. It was silver and about four times as old as he was. He always thought that was pretty amazing.

Silently, Rusty handed it back to him.

Buzz shook his head. "Nah. You look like you need it more than I do. Drink as much as you want, and give me the flask back at the end of the day." At the back of his mind, he realised that he was giving his most precious possession to a kid he knew to be light-fingered. But not trusting Rusty Ryan just didn't come naturally.

"Thanks," Rusty said again. He took another drink and the flask vanished into his jacket. Buzz could only hope it would help a little.

"Ocean still out sick?" he asked, acting casual, and then a horrible thought struck him. "He is sick, right? He didn't 'fall down the stairs' too?"

There was a quick look and he wondered if Rusty was considering lying. Making up some other reason for him to have a thousand bruises and a need to hide them. At this point that would be insulting. But Rusty sighed. "He's sick. I'm the clumsy one."

Buzz nodded and bit his lip. "You ever need a place to stay for the night . . . if you can't go to Ocean's for whatever reason." He shrugged. "No questions asked, you understand?" His mom had thrown his own father out nearly seven years ago now. But he could still remember what it was like. The yelling. The fear. He'd walked into a lot of doors, back then.

Rusty hesitated. "You're not going to . . . " he trailed off, nervously.

And Buzz had agreed to help him. He wasn't going to hit the kid and then turn round and point out that some other asshole had done it first. That would only make things worse. "I beat you up. No-one else."

Rusty smiled at him, bright and relieved. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"Don't." Buzz could feel something twist inside him and he snarled at the look of puzzlement Rusty shot him. "You ever say that again – you ever _think_ that again – I'll take it out on Ocean. He'll be eating through a straw for a month. You understand me?"

There was a long moment. Rusty stared at him, and he watched as the first, instinctive spark of anger and protectiveness faded to understanding and almost-apology.

*

Patricia had not had a good day. There'd been far too much on her mind, and everyone had just dismissed it as more of her missing Danny. Which she was. It just wasn't the only thing on her mind.

She and Dad had searched the streets surrounding the library for nearly half an hour last night before she admitted that Rusty had gone. And she hadn't known where he lived. Seemed as though there'd been nothing she could do, and she'd hated that feeling, and she'd wanted to run to Danny, to seek comfort, to ask for help, just to tell him. It had taken Dad a long time to convince her that she was overreacting. And she knew that he was beginning to feel that she was a little too serious about Danny.

Maybe she was. But she'd never met anyone like him. Never known anyone so thoughtful, so magical. And even though it made her feel like a silly little girl, she could imagine spending the rest of her life with him. Sometimes she dreamt about the future. Dreamt about her and Danny staying together. Going to the same college. Somewhere close enough that Rusty could come over on weekends. Until he got old enough to come too, and then, maybe, they'd all live in the same house. Danny would like that. They'd be happy. There'd be no danger, nothing to be afraid of. No reason for them to think of anything other than growing up and being the very best they could.

Sometimes she thought about telling Danny about her dream. She didn't even understand why she hadn't; she knew he wouldn't laugh. Maybe it would even make him smile. But she didn't know what Danny dreamed of.

She sighed and walked out of the empty classroom. Mr Fuller had let her stay late to work on a presentation. Well, he hadn't exactly let her. More like he hadn't said that she couldn't. And she was just thinking how strange it was to be standing in the school, knowing it was practically empty, when she heard something. Coming from downstairs. Yelling and what sounded like a scuffle. Eyes wide, she ran towards the noise.

Mr Ontaro was dragging someone down the corridor. Was dragging Rusty down the corridor. "You think I don't know it was you? What, do you think I'm an idiot? There's no-one else here and someone was in the office."

He had his hand clasped firmly round Rusty's arm. And Patricia could see Rusty's face and it frightened her. She called out before she stepped into the corridor. Before they knew she'd seen them. "Rusty, did you find . . . " She stopped, immediately in front of them, and she could only hope that she was managing to look suitably shocked and confused. "What's going on?"

Mr Ontaro glared at her, uncomfortably. "Miss Holmes, this doesn't concern you." He'd stopped though, and hastily let go of Rusty's arm. And he seemed to be thinking about what he was doing. Which was good.

"What did you do?" she asked Rusty, her eyes wide. "You were only away for a minute."

A pause, and she could feel Mr Ontaro staring at her, but she didn't dare look, because she knew he would see through her in a second. But she hardly ever lied. And she'd never been caught. And she had a reputation as a good girl, and please, please, let it count for something.

There was a flicker of appreciation in Rusty's eyes. "I don't know!" he whispered loudly. "I was just heading for the drinking fountain when I heard someone run past, and then someone else grabbed me and I thought maybe Buzz was mad about this morning, but it was Mr Ontaro."

"Well, why didn't you speak up, you stupid child!" Mr Ontaro sounded angry, but Patricia could see the embarrassment he was trying to hide.

Rusty stepped back hastily and looked down at the floor. "Sorry, sir" he said, quiet and ashamed, and Patricia knew he was a good liar.

"Miss Holmes, you say that Mr Ryan was with you?"

She nodded determinedly. "Yes, Mr Ontaro, he was. He was helping me with a list of his classmates who might be open to the possibility of a campaign for nuclear disarmament. Incidentally, did you know that - "

" - yes, that's quite enough, Miss Holmes. You know that the school board disapproves of attempts to politicise your fellow students." He frowned at her and she bit her lip, terrified she would giggle. Fortunately, he seemed to assume she was contrite. "Mr Ryan, you said that you heard someone run past you?"

Rusty didn't look up. "Yes sir. I did sir. But I didn't see who it was."

Mr Ontaro scowled. "Look at people when they're talking to you boy," he said severely, and he stepped forwards, his hand extended as if to wrench Rusty's head up.

Patricia swallowed hard as Rusty flinched back and threw his arm up to protect his face. Mr Ontaro backed off immediately. And she could see the discomfort on the teacher's face, and she didn't understand when he immediately started stuttering out his excuses.

"I need to . . .that is, I should . . ." He paused. "Which way did he run?"

Rusty pointed down the corridor silently

Mr Ontaro left.

There was a long silence and then Rusty smiled at her. "Want to get out of here?"

She nodded. "Sure."

They walked down the stairs, as far away from Mr Ontaro as they could get. Patricia looked sideways at him, wondering.

He sighed. "What?"

"I was wondering why he left like that?" If she'd seen . . . if she'd frightened someone like that, she'd have wanted . . . she didn't know. But she wouldn't have ran.

Rusty didn't look at her. "He's angling for another job. Private school. Better money. Last thing he wants to deal with right now is anything complicated. And now, now he thinks I'm complicated."

She bit at her lip. "Are you?"

"No." He grinned. "I'm pretty straightforward."

"So that was . . . I mean, you weren't . . ." She didn't know how to ask.

"I lie a lot, Pat," he told her gently and even if that wasn't exactly an answer, she had to accept that.

"Do you need to go back to the office?" she asked, wondering if he'd finished whatever he'd been doing.

He shook his head. "Nah. It's done. Was fixing some detentions."

And that was something else that had been bothering her. "You got detention for being beaten up by Buzz this morning?"

He hesitated. "Something like that."

"That's completely unfair!" she exploded. "He's four years older than you! He should be suspended at least. The police should be involved. I mean, I always thought he was one of the good guys!"

Rusty had stopped walking. He stared at her, and for the first time she could remember it was less than friendly. "Buzz is one of the good guys. I started that fight, Pat. It was my fault. And I was getting him out of detention, not me."

"Why?" It was all she could ask.

"Can't tell you." His gaze was level and direct and of course he couldn't. "But it really wasn't him. And you can tell that to anyone who asks."

She nodded and wondered what Danny would say.

They started walking again. "Thanks for the alibi. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh." She blinked. "Do you know, I didn't even think? I mean, I knew you'd have done whatever he said you'd done. Suppose I just didn't want you in trouble anyway."

He looked at her for a long moment and smiled. "I'm going to see Danny. Want to come with?"

"His mom let's you in?" She felt a strange stab of jealousy. "She won't let me in."

"I don't ask permission," he explained, with a hint of dark amusement. "Oh, I need to pick up a few things for him first."

"Rusty . . . " She trailed off, wondering how she could explain that she didn't mind what they got up to, and probably she'd always be willing to jump in to get either of them out of trouble, but somehow, there were some things that she wasn't prepared to stand and watch.

Rusty shot a puzzled frown at her and then suddenly seemed to get it. He laughed. "Don't worry," he assured her. "I was planning on paying."

*

It had taken a while to persuade Rusty to stop in the café. Despite the fact that he was looking tired, and was obviously in pain, in the end she'd claimed that she needed to sit down. And she got that he wanted to get to Danny's as soon as possible – had got that from the way that they'd practically ran through shops, buying books and magazines and video tapes and medicine and food, and she'd wondered whether he was working off a list or just guessing at what Danny would want. And of course, she wanted to see Danny too, it was just that she thought that Danny would be more pleased to see them if Rusty didn't look like he was on the brink of passing out. Besides. Any time there was shopping involved, she ended up really needing a coffee.

She watched Rusty press his glass against his face and couldn't help but ask. "What happened?"

He set the glass down and looked at her evenly. "Lot's of things happen. What do you mean?"

"Last night," she said, patiently. "What happened last night?"

"Oh." He shrugged painfully. "I told you. I got jumped by a group of guys who didn't like me very much."

She knew that wasn't true. She'd always known that wasn't true. And she knew he didn't owe her the truth, but she'd been so scared last night, she was so scared now, and she'd lied for him. "What would Danny say if I asked him?"

"Don't ask him," Rusty said, quickly and intensely and that stung.

"Are you worried he wouldn't lie for you or that he'd lie to me?" She knew it was unfair. She asked anyway.

Rusty sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, when he looked at her, he looked so much older than his years. So much older than her. "Either would hurt him. You know that. Don't ask him."

She stared at him for a long moment, and for a second, before she pushed all thought of it away firmly, it occurred to her that if he was a few years older, she'd be facing an impossible choice. Impulsively she reached across the table and took his hand. "I could never take him away from you. Even if I wanted to. I couldn't. You know that, right?"

"Sure." He gently took his hand away.

She frowned. "What?"

He sighed and smiled sadly at her. "Everything ends, Pat. Nothing is forever. People change and grow up. And Danny is meant for better things than . . . " He waved a hand, and she didn't know if he meant their school, their town or the world. "Danny deserves better."

She couldn't believe it, and she thought about the way that Danny smiled when he said Rusty's name, and the fact that Rusty had just casually spent more money than she'd expect to see in a month on Danny. To make Danny happy. "You think he'd - "

" - you think I'd stand in his way?" he asked, and she realised that he didn't expect her to understand. And he wasn't going to explain.

*

She stared up at the tree, apprehensively. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked.

Rusty smiled at her, and he could stop being so amused, for a start. "Course it is. It's easy. Done it a hundred times before."

Honestly, she couldn't help but look at him doubtfully. But she was willing to give it a try. "You first," she decided.

"Might be easier if you went first," he said thoughtfully, squinting up at the tree. "Be easier for me to help you that way."

She nodded patiently. "I'm wearing a skirt, Rusty."

"I'll go first," he said immediately.

"Thank you." She shook her head and grinned.

She watched him carefully. Saw where he put his hands and tried her best to imitate him. And, sure, once upon a time she'd climbed trees with her brothers. But that had been a long time ago. The best she could say now was that she didn't actually fall down. It was all definitely less than dignified. But there was Danny, and it was worth it.

Rusty got the window open somehow; she couldn't see the details and scrambled inside. "Brought you something," he called out cheerfully.

There was a brief coughing fit in reply and then she heard Danny croak out "Unless it's a shotgun, I'm not interested."

She followed Rusty in through the window. "I could go away if you like," she offered with a smile.

Danny had been lying on the sofa, facing the TV which was showing something she didn't recognise, but people with unlikely haircuts were staring intently at each other, so it was a fair bet it was a soap of some kind. As soon as he heard her voice he sat up, and the smile on his face almost made her blush. "Hi." Probably unconsciously he made an effort to straighten his hair. Since he looked flushed and sick, it was probably a wasted effort, but she appreciated the sentiment. "How was . . . "

He trailed off. And his eyes were hard and his mouth was angry, and he wasn't looking at _her_ anymore.

"You look better than you did yesterday," Rusty said brightly after the slightest pause.

"You don't," Danny said levelly.

Rusty shrugged. "Can't all be handsome."

"Rus'", Danny sighed, and he made as if to stand up which sparked another coughing fit.

She started forwards, but Rusty was already there, and he produced a glass of water from nowhere and knelt in front of Danny and helped him drink it.

"Thanks," Danny said, and he was still staring at Rusty's face.

"Got stupid," Rusty's voice was quiet and she didn't think it was for her ears. She wished she could leave them alone; seemed as though they needed it. "It's okay. Really, it is."

Danny made an abortive movement, as though he'd been reaching out to touch Rusty's face, but he glanced over at her and dropped his hand. ( _And she wished..._ ) He looked at both of them and smiled. "So. What did you bring me?"

"Everything," Patricia groaned, pointing at the overflowing backpack Rusty had dropped on the floor.

"Chicken soup, tissues, more medicine - "

" - thanks," Danny interrupted. "Down to my last - "

" - I know," Rusty told him. "Oranges, ginger ale, soda crackers and more juice."

Danny made a face.

"It's all good for you," Patricia pointed out.

"That's what _he_ says," Danny complained. "Pretty sure it's just old wives' tales."

Rusty shrugged. "Well, Mabel was the one who told me. You want to tell her she's wrong, go ahead."

Danny nodded and smiled. "I'll pass. What else?"

"Couple of magazines, your homework if you get really bored, my homework if you get even boreder - "

" - more bored - " Patricia interjected automatically.

" - chocolate, popcorn and movies."

Danny pursed his lips. "Okay. Guess you can stay."

"Thanks." Rusty rolled his eyes. "Because listening to you cough and sneeze is just the highlight of my day." Immediately Danny did sneeze and Rusty pulled the tissues out of the backpack. "Here," he said gently. "You do look better."

"I feel better," Danny told him. "It's just that 'better' still feels like I should have been buried a week ago." He paused. "You taken painkillers?"

"Yeah," Rusty nodded. "I told you. It's okay. Just bruises. Inside and out."

There was silence, and Patricia held her breath, somehow reluctant to break the moment.

Rusty stood up. "I'm going to go reheat the soup."

"Richard is here," Danny said immediately, and Rusty hesitated.

"I'll be careful," he promised, eventually.

"Yeah," Danny nodded.

She knew that Richard was Danny's mom's 'special friend', and she knew Danny didn't like him, and neither did Rusty. And that, after all, was perfectly normal and perfectly understandable. Right up to the point where she'd swear that he frightened them. Just a little. But that was a little more than she was comfortable with.

The door closed behind Rusty and she walked round the sofa and bent down to kiss Danny.

"Careful," he warned her, reluctantly. "You don't want to catch - "

" - I don't care," she told him fiercely. "I've missed you."

She held him close and kissed him tenderly and this was what she wanted.

Danny smiled at her, as she snuggled up next to him on the sofa. "I missed you too."

"I've been by," she said quickly. "Your mom said you needed to rest."

"You came to visit?" he looked gratified. "She didn't mention."

She tried to look at least a little surprised. "I suppose it slipped her mind," she offered.

Danny grinned and kissed her quickly. "Right," he said, voice full of irony.

"Is she going to be very angry if she finds me and Rusty here?" she asked slowly.

"Don't much care," Danny shrugged. "But she won't. She comes in to check on me a few times a day. Rusty was here from Friday till Monday morning, and he just hid in the bathroom and she didn't notice."

Right... She'd probably have a few words to describe exactly how insane that was. But she kept her mouth shut.

"So, how have you been?" Danny smiled. "Been seeing any other boys while I've been away?"

She grinned. "Just the one," she said, making herself comfortable against his arm.

"Really?" he asked and she loved the amused self-confidence in his voice, loved that they were playing, that the insecurity that other girls talked about in their boyfriends was just nowhere in his mind.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "He's handsome and funny and smarter than you. And you know how I feel about blonds."

"Right." Danny laughed. "Trying to make me jealous of my best friend?"

She smiled and wondered if she should tell him about the library and how vulnerable he'd seemed, and how frightened she'd been. She wondered if she should tell him about Mr Ontaro, and the look on Rusty's face, and the horrible moment when he'd flinched. She wondered if she should tell him about Rusty's conviction that they weren't forever. She wondered if there was anything she could tell him that he didn't already know. "Can't be done," she said simply, and held his hand.

Rusty came in a few moments later, holding a mug of soup. He'd knocked first, and Danny had rolled his eyes.

"What movies did you get?" Danny asked, when they were all comfortably curled up on the sofa, ensconced in blankets, surrounded by chocolate and, in Danny's case, tissues.

"'Carrie', 'A Star is Born' and 'One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest'," Rusty said, stretching with a wince.

Danny stared at him. "What, were you just not feeling happy?"

Rusty grinned.

"What else did you get?" Danny asked, with a knowing smile.

"'Young Frankenstein', 'Some Like it Hot' and 'You Only Live Twice'," Rusty admitted happily.

"'James Bond," Danny requested immediately.

Patricia shook her head, severely. "Honestly. Boys. Offer them art and they want car chases."

"What?" Danny demanded, mock-outrage in his voice. "I'm sick. I get to choose Connery over Nicholson."

"Besides," Rusty added with a smile. "There's a gyrocopter chase, too."

She rolled her eyes and prepared to settle in and enjoy the movie.

Danny fell asleep five minutes into 'Some Like it Hot', holding her hand, his head on Rusty's shoulder.

Rusty smiled at her over Danny's head. "I'll wake him up in time for Marilyn." She threw a handful of popcorn at him, and he laughed and dodged.

Danny was sick and Rusty was hurt and she was sure she shouldn't feel this happy.

*

It was Thursday when Buzz walked out of shop class in time to see Ocean standing at the bottom of the stairs, cigarette in his hand, expression of quiet death on his face.

He nodded to the guys to go ahead without him and slowed to stand in front of Ocean, who fixed him with a long, calm stare, dropped his cigarette and ground it beneath his heel, and turned and led Buzz out of the building.

Buzz followed without hesitation. Some things were owed.

"Glad to see you feeling better," he said to Ocean, when they finally stopped.

Ocean nodded. His hands were in his pockets, and he still didn't speak, and Buzz felt a spark of curiosity. Because if it had been him, he'd have started off by pounding the guy into the dust. And he hadn't been sure what Ocean would do, but he'd thought that it would probably make his way look merciful. This, he didn't understand at all. After all, he had no doubt at all that the moment Ocean set foot in the school there had been twenty people surrounding him, desperate to tell about the fight. That was just the way it worked, and it was Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan. Wasn't like he'd been expecting to be forgiven.

And he thought, not for the first time, about his older brother Chip. His geeky older brother. Two years older, one foot shorter and a thousand miles smarter. He thought about when they were young, and Chip hiding him under the bed and taking his punishment. He thought about when Max Durham had smashed Chip's science project and Buzz had smashed Max's nose in return. He thought about when Chip had spent all evening fixing Buzz's radio instead of doing his homework, because he knew Buzz hated to sleep in silence. He thought about last month, when he'd sold his car to give Chip a little help with his tuition. It was about what was important.

He did understand. And if Ocean wanted to smack the shit out of him, he wasn't going to put up any more than a token fight. He had it coming.

Ocean was still looking at him. "He told me," he said quietly. "He told me he asked you to."

Buzz was honestly surprised. He'd have thought that Rusty would have wanted to keep it as quiet as possible. "Oh," was all he managed to say.

Ocean laughed. "Think he thought if he explained it first I wouldn't want to kill you."

"And you do," Buzz said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Ocean nodded. "I really do." He turned away sharply. "You hit him. Do you have any idea . . . " He shook his head slowly and spun back to face Buzz. "I should pay you back the same way. You _hit_ him."

Buzz braced himself. He already knew that Ocean could hit hard, when he wanted to.

But Ocean just looked at him and shook his head. "I told him I wouldn't. Not this way and not any other way either."

"Oh," Buzz said stupidly. He wondered why it meant anything. If it was him and Chip, he wouldn't let anything stop him from punishing anyone responsible.

"And I don't lie to him," Ocean continued. "Ever. So you're safe."

That wasn't fair. That wasn't . . . it wasn't right.

Ocean was still looking at him. "Don't ever do it again." He smiled, widely. "I'll be watching you."

Buzz watched Danny walk away and wondered how much he really understood.


	22. Words and Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've not updated this in so long! Would you believe I basically forgot about it?!
> 
> Timeline
> 
> 1\. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
> 
> 2\. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
> 
> 3\. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve
> 
> 4\. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 5\. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 6\. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 7\. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.
> 
> 8\. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
> 
> 9\. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
> 
> 10\. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
> 
> 11\. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
> 
> 12\. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thireen, Danny is sixteen
> 
> 13\. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen
> 
> 14\. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
> 
> 15\. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
> 
> 16\. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
> 
> 17\. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
> 
> 18\. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
> 
> 19\. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen

Danny sank down onto the ground and looked at the headstone, almost nervously. It was too dark to make out the lettering; not that he had to. Might as well be engraved on his brain.

_Luke Ocean._

_24th February 1934 - 16th November 1978_

_Husband and Father_

_May you find the peace that you deserve_

"Hi Dad," he said quietly and winced. His voice carried uncomfortably in the silent cemetery and he felt like an idiot. "So, it's been a year, huh? Well, it was a year yesterday. Sorry I didn't come by then. I wanted to. I _meant_ to. I just . . stuff came up." The bitter smile strained his face. "Now I sound like you."

He took a long look round. "Sorry that it's so late too. Wanted some privacy. You know, the padlock on the gate was surprisingly easy. Guess we don't have many problems with body snatchers. Or the undead." He sighed, picturing the frown and the long string of explanations that would have followed that kind of comment a year ago. "You didn't know I could pick locks. Or maybe you do now." He considered. "Not like I'm thinking that you're out there, somewhere, looking down on me. And if you were out there somewhere, you wouldn't be watching _me_."

"This isn't me blaming you," he said, eyes downcast. "I'm not what you wanted. I know that. And I'm sorry. I should have tried harder. Should have been the son you wanted." He looked up sharply at the headstone. "But I could never figure out what you did want. And there are some things . . . " He shook his head and his thoughts trailed off.

"I brought flowers," he added awkwardly, after a second, and he laid them gently on the ground. "Don't know why. Not like I'd have ever given you flowers before, you know? Can't imagine what you'd have said if I did." He smiled. "The second bunch is for Emma. I would have given them to her direct, but I don't know where she's buried. Her family flew in and took her away and that's the last I heard about her. Not like I could ask Mom. Sorry." He paused. "There's a teddy bear too," he added in a rush. "It's for . . . I wanted to . . . and Rusty suggested . . . " He shrugged. "There's a teddy bear."

He studied the backs of his hands for a long moment. "You never told me. Were you going to? Did you know?" There was no one to hear. "Did you want _him_?" he finished in a whisper, and immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut, because even if there'd never be an answer, he hated that there was a question. "Sorry. Guess that's not my business."

"I didn't hate you," he said quietly. "I know I tell you that every time, but I really didn't. It's just . . . I could have been better. I accept that. I'm going to have to live with that. But couldn't you have done just a little more? I _never_ wanted much from you, I swear it. Just one promise kept, Dad. That's all I ever wanted. Couldn't you have turned up to one parents' evening? Couldn't you have taken me golfing, or bowling, or anything you said? Couldn't you have listened to me, just once?"

He closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control. Tried to stop shouting. "Couldn't you have supported me against Mom, just once, when she tried to get rid of Rusty? I know you didn't always agree with her. Remember when you took us fishing and we fell in slightly? You _saw._ And I saw your face. You think just because I was a kid I didn't understand what you were thinking? What you were feeling? He was nine years old. You knew it was wrong. You knew it."

"God, Dad, that was him after nearly a week of healing. You want to imagine what I saw? You want to imagine what I felt? He was nine years old. He was nine years old and I love him. You never taught me that."

He sighed and leaned back on his hands and stared up at the stars. "But you were nice in the restaurant, afterwards. When Rus' was looking for the cheapest thing on the menu. You insisted he got a proper meal. Stopped it from being awkward. Guess you understood more than I thought. And I never thanked you for that." He swallowed. "Thank you," he whispered, low and sincere.

"You did that, but you never stopped Mom from sneering. Never stopped her from chasing him home every time she was in a bad mood. Never stopped her from trying to split us up. Never said that Rusty could stay whenever he needed to. I mean, I know that you were never going to help us directly. You were never going to go to the police, or whatever, and tell them. And I don't understand that, but I can accept it, I guess. You had more important things in your life than us – me. I get that. But just in the house. Just in the family, where no-one else would see, or judge, or whatever. Couldn't you have supported us? Couldn't you have decided that my friend, my happiness, meant something?" _Didn't it mean something?_

"And last summer, when I was staying with you and Emma. When you took us to the zoo – and incidentally," he added with a frown. "Why the hell did you take us to the zoo? But when I was going to get Rusty. You asked me not to bring him unless he was presentable. You have any idea how much I wanted to make you say what you really meant?" He dropped his head back down and looked intently at the stone. "You wanted to make sure that Emma wasn't exposed to the real world, I know. You loved her and you wanted to protect her. But didn't me and Rus' deserve just a little bit of protection?"

Pondering for a moment, he scowled. "Well, we don't need protecting now. We don't need help. Because we're never going to get it."

"Rusty's waiting for me outside," he said, in a softer voice. "I was going to tell him I wanted some privacy, but he already understood. Just helped me carry the flowers round and settled down under the street lamp with a pack of cigarettes and a deck of cards. Really hoping no one comes by." He smiled. "Do you have any idea what it's like to not have to explain yourself? To be completely understood? To not have to put the difficult stuff into words? It's wonderful. Shouldn't keep him waiting too long. Though he said it was fine. Said I could take as long as I needed and he'd wait. He meant forever. Squeezed my hand and let me go."

He hesitated and his smile faded. "If you'd have seen that, would you have . . . . " He shook his head. "No. You wouldn't," he said, and his voice was decisive even as he felt unsure. Because he couldn't bear for it to be otherwise. "You were nothing like that _bastard._ "

For a while he looked up at the stars. The wind picked up a little, and he shivered, and he was glad that he'd made Rusty take his gloves.

"Sometimes I'm glad that it never actually came to a divorce, you know that?" he said, absently, and quickly looked down, the shiver of horror in the pit of his stomach. "I don't mean I wanted you to . . . I _never_ wanted that. But Mom never wanted me either. We all know that. Guess when you split up, well, I just came with the house. And I don't know if I could have taken sitting in a courtroom while you guys argued over who had to take me."

"Oh, I know you loved me," he added quickly. "But at a distance, right? Sometimes I want to ask what I _did_." He laughed shortly. "Rusty says I didn't do anything. Believe me, there are reasons why that's funny."

He sighed and leaned forwards. "So, anyway, what's new? Think I told you that Mom split up with Richard. He hasn't been back. That's good. That's very good."

"What else? Oh yeah, science fair last month. I didn't enter, but we were running a book on it. Made quite a bit of money, too. Well, right up until the point where Julian's model biplane made a beeline for Mr. Costanza. Chased him right across the hall. It was all a little 'North by Northwest'. Right up to the point where he fell head first into Cameron's volcano. Then it was a little more 'East of Java'. Anyway, we had nothing to do with it. But we had to scrap the betting anyway. Wouldn't be fair."

He ran his hands through his hair and fidgeted angrily. "And that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. It's just that I don't want to talk to you about what I want to talk to you about. Not like you'd understand, even if you could hear me." He took a deep breath. "So I turned sixteen two weeks ago. I know you know that. You remembered last year. And I understood why you couldn't be at the party. Mom was organising it. Would have been awkward. I should have told you I understood. But you sent me a card and fifty dollars. I've still got it. And you phoned me too . . ." He was silent for a moment. "I really didn't hate you. I should never have said that."

"Anyway," he went on determinedly. "I didn't want any sort of fuss this year, so Mom just organised a party for the family. Hers, not yours. And she said I could invite anyone I wanted from school, but I just wanted Rusty. And it was okay. I was still thinking about you a lot, but it was okay. We coped."

"So, I was feeling almost good about life. And Mom got me enrolled in a Driver's Ed program, and I was excited about that, and I was doing really well. You might have been proud of me. Then, yesterday . . . "

He paused and stared down at the ground. "Yesterday. And I was trying not to think. Trying to forget about the date altogether. And I was out for a driving lesson with Mr. Grey, and . . . it was stupid. I just started feeling nervous, and he was talking about emergency stops and when to . . . and we passed by the turning for the freeway. _The_ freeway. Maybe a mile away. Maybe not. And I just . .. " He shook his head. "I think 'freaked out' is the phrase we're looking for here. Slammed on the brakes. Leapt out the car. Ran. Could hear Mr. Grey yelling behind me. Can't blame him. I could have . . . could have caused an accident. Could have killed someone. Someone's father."

"Anyway, I just ran and hid. Don't even know why, not really. Guess Mr. Grey told Mom. Guess she was worried. Really worried. She went round to Rusty's. To see if I was there, I guess, and to ask for help when I wasn't. Rusty found me. Rusty always finds me. Though I think maybe I wanted to be found this time. Because I wound up exactly where I was the last time I ran." He clenched his fists tightly. "Least I knew I hadn't actually hurt anyone this time."

"So Rus' found me." He frowned. "I wonder what you'd have made of that? You were never very comfortable with emotion. Rusty held me and I cried and _we're not wrong_. Think I scared him though. A lot. We talked afterwards. I talked. And he understood that I had to talk to you. But I couldn't face it then. Sorry."

"Mom was pissed when we went back to the house. Apparently Mr. Grey had been talking. She got phone calls. She hates those phone calls. She was yelling. Demanding to know what I'd been thinking. I couldn't explain. Really couldn't. I wanted to, and I just couldn't find the words. And she was yelling. Rusty stepped in front of me, and you can't imagine how much I hated that. But he got her calmed down. Explained everything. She listens to him sometimes, you know. She knows he knows me better. Think that's part of the reason why she hates him."

He smiled wonderingly. "You know what though? She was really great about it. When she understood. When she stopped yelling. She hugged me, which was . . . nice. Least she tries. And she said that I didn't have to learn to drive right now, if I didn't want to. She said it could wait. And she ordered us pizza and just assumed Rusty was staying over, and she even made us popcorn and she gave me money for today, told me we should do whatever I wanted."

He stood up slowly and his legs were a little stiff. "So, I guess I just wanted to tell you. I still miss you. It hurts. And I'm sorry." He glanced over his shoulder, towards the gate. "Got to go now. Rusty's waiting."

For a moment, he bowed his head and he thought of a careful smile and an easy laugh, of shiny shoes and the smell of cologne, of learning to ride a bike and being told once and for all that it wasn't his fault. He smiled and wiped away his tears. "Goodnight, Dad."


	23. Matilda and the Werewolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's apologies: Okay. Three things. First of all, this chapter is . . . a little dark and a little unpleasant. There is a lot of violence and I hate it. Second of all this chapter is long even by my admittedly flexible standards. Sorry, it really didn't want to be split. Thirdly, in this book Roald Dahl's wonderful book 'Matilda' is quoted from fairly extensively. (Which, incidentally I do not own and use entirely without permission.) It was the book I was thinking of when I first came up with this chapter, a very long time ago, and, if asked, I would have sworn before judge, jury and Anne Robinson that it was one of his earlier ones. It isn't. It was in fact published in 1988 which is clearly far too late for it to be read by Danny and Rusty as children. So I can only apologise for the anachronism and pretend that we live in a world where Roald Dahl wrote it, oh, fifteen years earlier shall we say? Sorry. I really do try to keep things time appropriate, but in this case choosing another book would have involved altering many things I had no wish to alter. Anyway. Those are my three public apologies for today. 
> 
> Timeline
> 
> 1\. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
> 
> 2\. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
> 
> 3\. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.
> 
> 4\. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve
> 
> 5\. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 6\. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 7\. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 8\. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.
> 
> 9\. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
> 
> 10\. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
> 
> 11\. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
> 
> 12\. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
> 
> 13\. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thireen, Danny is sixteen
> 
> 14\. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen
> 
> 15\. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
> 
> 16\. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
> 
> 17\. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
> 
> 18\. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
> 
> 19\. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
> 
> 20\. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen

The graveyard was bathed in the silvery light of the full moon. The old, creaky trees were casting twisted shadows across the headstones. The wind was howling incessantly - or at least _something_ was. And the woman crept across the screen, agonisingly slowly, and her flashlight was gradually going out and every so often she jumped – flinched – and looked round wildly, as though she'd heard something someplace he couldn't see. And Danny was almost certain that he was safe, curled up on the sofa, cushion hugged to his chest, but he still didn't quite have the nerve to turn off the movie and go to bed. Because there might be something lurking in the shadows, just waiting for him to put his feet on the floor . . .

A floorboard creaked upstairs and he jumped and immediately scolded himself. It was fine. There was no-one in the house except him. And if he was half as clever as he pretended, he would have gone to bed early, instead of staying up to watch the late night horror movie. But he'd wanted to wait up for his mom coming in, and by the time she'd phoned and told him that she'd be working all night and wouldn't be back till late tomorrow, he'd already been engrossed in the movie. He didn't mind that she wasn't coming back tonight. It wasn't like he was some baby who had to have his mommy hug and kiss him goodnight. He was eleven, and more than capable of managing on his own for a night. Hell, half the time he was asleep before she came back anyway. And she'd probably forgotten that Dad was still away on that business trip to D.C. Just like Dad forgot that he'd promised to take him bowling that weekend. He set his mouth firmly and reminded himself – not for the first time – that, really, he was lucky. At least his parents weren't . . . there were always ways that things could be worse.

He turned his attention back to the screen and watched, wide-eyed and horror-struck, as the _thing_ with the tangled, matted fur, and the blood staining its snout, made its first appearance and stalked silently after the woman, flitting from shadow to shadow, impossibly fast. Its paw, or hand, or whatever, reached out towards her throat while she just stood and screamed and the claws were gleaming in the moonlight, and Danny's heart was in his mouth and when the soft knocking came at the door he nearly leapt out of his skin.

Leaping off the couch, he turned the TV off, and stood by the living room door and clutched tighter at the pillow and chewed on his lip and waited in dreadful silence until the knocking came again, even fainter than before. Okay. There were four things he had to remember. If he could just keep this in his head, he'd be fine. First of all, werewolves didn't tend to knock on doors. Second, even if they did, they'd probably do it louder. Third, werewolves didn't actually exist. And finally, and most importantly, there was a silver letter opener on the rack in the hall.

He dropped the cushion onto the floor and padded noiselessly out into the hall. Difficult to imagine who'd be at the door at this time of night. Perhaps the sensible thing to do would be to ignore it altogether. But the problem with that was that it was difficult to imagine who'd be at the door at this time of night. As he walked past his hand closed over the silver letter opener. It was sharp enough. And better to be safe than sorry.

The knocking came again, and this time it sounded more like fingernails scratching on wood. And that did nothing to reassure him.

With a deep breath, and the little knife firmly in his hand, Danny wrenched the door open. He barely had time to register the smile and the blood and the pain, before Rusty fell forwards towards him.

* * *

_He is as warm and comfortable as he can hope to be. It is summer and still there's a draught in his room and he's wrapped as much of himself in the blanket as he can. The flat is dark and empty. He hasn't seen his parents today and almost, almost he is happy._

_Squirming a little on the mattress as his hip comes into contact with the hard slat, he falls asleep and does not dream._

_The door explodes open and for a terrified, sleep-befuddled moment he wonders if the house is falling down. Then he is aware of the shouting, aware of the anger. Hands bunch around the neck of his jumper and he is ripped from his bed, torn from safety, and this_ isn't fair. _They never come into his room, or hardly ever. Lying still and silent in the dark, when they can't see or hear him – that's as close to being good as he can get._

 

* * *

The knife fell to the ground with a clatter as Danny leapt forwards. And he didn't really have a chance of actually catching Rusty, but he managed to make sure that when he hit the ground he was cushioned. Protected, as far as Danny was able. Working automatically, he pulled Rusty further inside and kicked the door closed. Then, heart racing and trying not to think too hard about what he was doing, he knelt up and eased Rusty over. His eyes were closed and his face was pale, but when Danny brushed a thumb over his cheek he gave a sort of gasp and leaned into the touch in a way that he never would when he was awake. And Danny couldn't decide whether that was comforting or not, but Rusty was passed out in his hallway, a mess of blood and bruises, and there was more blood than Danny had ever seen in one place before, and he had to figure out what to do.

With a grimace, and a fervent hope that Rusty wouldn't wake up, he struggled to his feet, hauling Rusty up with him. And his arms were wrapped tightly around Rusty's waist, and he could feel the sticky warmth of blood soaking through Rusty's clothes, beneath his fingers, and for a second all he could manage to do was stand there, biting down on his lip as hard as he could, and then he stumbled through to the living room, half dragging and half carrying, and somehow he managed to get Rusty lying down on the sofa.

He looked down for a long moment. At the face that he knew better than his own, and that now was almost unrecognisable. Bruised, bloodied and swollen. Danny had no idea where one injury ended and the next began. The bastard hadn't held back this time. And he needed to know the rest, and the bloodstains were worst at Rusty's left arm, so gently – very, very gently – he eased the sleeve up and caught sight of the damage and had to work so, so hard not to scream or cry or swear or do anything so unhelpful. The cuts were deep and still oozing, and the dried blood was thick and the tiny shards of glass glinted in the light and it wasn't _fair_ and it _hurt_.

He stumbled backwards and reached for the phone on the wall. Time he came to his senses. Enough was enough, Rusty was unconscious and even though the bleeding had slowed, Danny was sure he'd lost more than he should. ( _He shouldn't have lost any_.) With shaking hands he lifted the received and dialled, and he'd only dialled '9' and '1' when he heard the tiniest of noises and looked round.

Rusty was awake, propped up on one arm and looking at him, and his eyes – or the one that he was capable of opening, at any rate - were pleading and beseeching.

"I have to," Danny told him, and felt a strange feeling of déjà vu. "It's serious, Rus'."

Rusty continued to look at him and Danny wavered.

"What do you want me to do?" he demanded. "Do you have any idea how bad you look right now?"

And Rusty looked away and Danny saw him tense and clench his fists, and he dropped the phone and hurried over and realised that they weren't going to solve this problem with doctors. He brushed his hand through Rusty's hair in silent promise, and Rusty looked back up at him and smiled slightly.

"If there's anything worse . . ." he trailed off and shrugged. "If I say we're going to the doctor, we're going to the doctor. Okay?"

Rusty nodded his agreement, and Danny could accept that.

Then he frowned, and played the conversation back through in his head. And slowly, ever so slowly, new fear and confusion wound their way through his soul. "Rus' . . .?" he began uncertainly.

And Rusty looked up at him, jaw tense, rigid and scared, and Danny closed his mouth.

"Never mind," he said with a forced quirk of his lips.

Then Rusty frowned, and rubbed at the bloodstain where he'd been leaning on the upholstery and looked up at Danny and there was fear and apology and it was unbearable.

Danny bit the anger back. "Not exactly what's important right now, Rus'."

In answer, Rusty glanced over to the doorway nervously and Danny understood.

"She's out right now," he told him immediately. "Working. She said she'd be back tomorrow. I'll turn the cushions over. Mop the floor. She'll never know."

The tiniest hint of exhausted amusement in Rusty's eyes said that he thought Danny was being a little over-optimistic, and Danny was inclined to agree, but there was something that was worrying him more. Because sure, his mom had said that she wouldn't be back till tomorrow night. But it wouldn't altogether surprise him if she turned up first thing in the morning. And that would probably be a good thing. Probably, she'd take one look at Rusty and she'd insist that he go straight to the hospital. Probably she'd even drive them herself. Probably. But if she didn't . . .

If she didn't, she still wouldn't let Rusty stay. If, as she had before, in the face of everything, she still insisted that her own little view of the world was correct, then she'd drive Rusty back to his parents. And forget what everyone said about needing to trust your parents, about honouring them and respecting their decisions. Danny couldn't let that happen. Not in a million years.

He glanced up to see Rusty watching him carefully. "Just thinking," he said, with a reassuring smile, and he watched Rusty relax by the barest fraction. "I think we need to get you upstairs."

Rusty pondered this for a few moments and then nodded slowly.

Danny walked over and made sure the doors between them and the staircase were open, and he tried not to look at the bloodied footmarks in the hall where he'd dragged Rusty through, until he suddenly stopped and thought about what he wasn't looking at. Footprints. Bare footprints. For the first time he realised that Rusty wasn't wearing shoes. He turned back and knelt down beside the sofa and gently reached out and turned the soles of Rusty's feet towards him, and beneath the dirt and the blood he could see cuts and blisters and bruises forming. And he thought about Rusty walking all that way barefoot, and it was one more jarring note of wrongness and it reminded him of the other thing that had been nagging at him. Because Rusty didn't own any nice clothes. That was a given, that was as much a fact of their life as the rest. But Danny had never seen him wearing anything quite so obviously too big for him, and certainly nothing with quite so many holes. His eyes flickered across the ratty grey jumper and the thin cotton pants and, the realisation suddenly dawned that Rusty was wearing his night clothes. And he thought about what could have driven Rusty, bleeding and in his pyjamas, to seek him out, and he wondered, dimly, over the blood roaring in his ears, if murder was always wrong.

When he felt he had himself under some degree of control, he looked up to see Rusty staring at the carpet, and he could see the embarrassment and he could see the humiliation and he always, always hated it. "Not your fault," he said firmly. "Never your fault.

Rusty seemed to shrink in on himself, and there was something more here than the usual.

"Rus' . . . ?"

But the only answer was a quick and fearful shake of the head, and Danny suppressed the grimace and reached out his hand. "Come on."

With the slightest look, Rusty claimed indignantly that he could walk on his own, and even as Danny doubted it, he found his lips twitching.

"Humour me," he said, with the barest hint of grin. "Because I'd hate to sprain something picking you up off the floor."

Rusty blinked, and half grinned, before he let Danny take his arms and pull him up. And Danny did his very best to be careful and gentle and considerate, but he still was aware of every wince of pain that he didn't see.

"I'm sorry," he said, inevitably, and he acknowledged the exasperated look that Rusty shot him. "I know, I know. I just hate hurting you." More exasperation. "I know it's not my fault. Doesn't make it better."

They walked out the room and Danny watched Rusty's face grow more impassive with each step, and he wished he was grown-up so he could just carry Rusty up the stairs. And he wished Rusty was grown-up so that people wouldn't hurt him anymore.

* * *

_He is dangling helplessly in the air and the fists are at his throat and he chokes and struggles to breathe and looks up into his dad's face._

" _You stupid, selfish piece of shit!" Dad rages. "You fucking, pathetic waste of space!"_

_His feet scrabble frantically in the air as Dad shakes him back and forth in time to his words. More than anything right now he wants to kick out, wants to struggle and hurt and escape and run and never look back. And that just goes to show how_ wrong _and_ bad _he really is._

_Desperately he thinks back over the last few days, trying to figure out what he's done wrong. He can't think of anything especially awful. He and Danny had a good couple of hauls last week, so it's not even as though he's been eating too much food, and he's hardly been here to be too noisy._

_His head is thrown back as Dad punches him, once, twice, again, and the pain blooms in his mouth, his cheek, his eye. The blood runs down his face and he can taste it on his lips._

_Finally Dad drops him and he falls to the floor. He tries to get up, he really does but the boot that catches him in the jaw is unexpected and vicious and drops him immediately._

_Whatever he's done it must have been_ really _bad._

 

* * *

The stairs took a while. Step by painful step and by the end, Danny was supporting both their weight. He didn't mind. They staggered into his room and automatically Danny started to take Rusty towards the bed.

Rusty froze.

Danny could feel him tense under his arm. Could feel him shaking. Couldn't bear it.

Without even hesitating he took a step towards the sofa and got Rusty sitting down on it. And Rusty knew that he'd noticed the fear, Danny could tell that by the way he wasn't looking at him. And Rusty was hunched over on the sofa, exhausted and shaking with cold and more-than-cold, and he was trying not to lean on anything, as if everything would hurt. As if everything _did_ hurt.

Desperately, Danny wanted to say that it was okay. He wanted to say that everything was going to be fine, that nothing was going to hurt Rusty anymore, that he wouldn't let anything hurt Rusty anymore. "I'm here," he said instead, and he felt stupid and inadequate. "I'm here."

And Rusty looked up and there was wonder and gratitude in his eyes and Danny could howl with the misery of it all and he saw Rusty's hand twitch, as if he _wanted,_ and quickly Danny reached out and clasped Rusty's hand in his and for a long moment they simply sat together and the silence was comfort.

Eventually he stood up and looked down at Rusty. "I need to see. If we're going to do this ourselves, I need to see."

Rusty's lips were tight and he shook his head.

Danny sighed. "Rus', you're hurt. You need help."

Another second of denial.

"Please," he said quietly. "It's only me."

And Rusty looked up at him sharply and somehow, Danny understood very clearly that he was never going to be an 'only'.

He bit his lip and ignored the chorus of emotion that echoed through him. "Please, Rus'," he said again and Rusty looked at him for a long time and then he bit his lip and carefully, clumsily started to take his jumper off.

After a couple of seconds Danny couldn't bear to let him struggle and he stepped forwards and quietly helped pull it over his head.

And he saw what was underneath.

Since he'd met Rusty, he'd often wondered if there was a trick to it. Some quality, some ability, some knowledge he lacked. Something that made people able to see the unending stream of injuries – a black eye here, a split lip there, bruises and bloodstains and _pain –_ something that made them able to see all that and not fall into the dark place of anger and outrage. It passed his understanding; it always had.

Rusty's chest and stomach were smeared with blood and he could see the layers of dark bruises underneath, and he could see the couple of open welts that weren't nearly enough to account for all the blood. He moved round slightly to get a look at Rusty's back, and he saw the scores etched into Rusty's back, the bleeding, weeping lashes.

This was what happened. This was what Rusty was supposed to endure and Danny was supposed to ignore.

"Rusty," he whispered, and his voice was choked, and Rusty looked up at him sharply as if he was trying to be reassuring, but his eyes were clouded and he was still trembling.

There was a moment when it felt as if they shared the simple knowledge that this _wasn't_ right, that this wasn't what life should be, could be.

* * *

_He feels his dad stamp down on his shoulder blade and the fire shoots all the way along his arm. His fingers curl desperately and his nails scratch into the floorboards. The next kick catches him under the ribs and his breath vanishes and he's lifted bodily into the air. He takes the advantage of the momentum, manages to roll over and get his feet under him and before his dad can react he's on his feet and he's running for the door, running as fast as he can. Running is bad, but he's always bad anyway and he'd rather survive._

* * *

With a deep breath, Danny stood up. "Right. Right. I need to go get stuff."

He waited, a little hopeful, but there was no answer. Rusty was still sitting on the sofa, his jumper crumpled in his hand. And Danny could see he was still shaking, could see the pain that was still screaming just below the surface.

He swallowed hard and turned to head into the bathroom and was stopped by the smallest noise, the lightest moan. Blinking his eyes clear, he turned back and Rusty was looking at him and there was unguarded misery.

The breath caught in Danny's throat and he hurried back and lightly brushed his hand against Rusty's less-damaged cheek. "I'm not leaving you," he assured Rusty and his voice was horrified. "I just need to . . . we need to get you fixed up, Rusty."

This time he stayed and he looked into Rusty's eyes until he saw the understanding and the agreement and then he darted into the bathroom. Right. Flannel. Hot water. That was straight forward enough. He carried them back carefully and laid them next to the sofa. Rusty's arms were wrapped round himself and he barely seemed aware that Danny was there.

"I'll just be a couple more minutes, okay?" he soothed mindlessly, and after a second Rusty nodded tightly.

His parents' bathroom next. The medicine cabinet. He retrieved sticking plasters, bandages and antiseptic cream. The tub said it was soothing and healing. Good. Good, that was what they surely needed. Carefully he checked the little bottles of prescription medicine, hoping for something that he understood, hoping there was something that would help. Nothing, and he sighed. Tylenol then. With a frown he checked the back of the packet. _Not suitable for children under 12._ Oh, that was helpful. He stared at it for a couple of seconds, but they needed _something_ and he added it to the pile. What else? A pair of tweezers and he thought that was everything.

He carried it all through and suddenly realised what else. "One more thing, Rus'" he promised. "Then I'll be back and I won't leave."

Rusty didn't look at him and Danny was back in the room with a glass of water practically before the door had managed to swing shut.

He knelt in front of Rusty with a pill and the glass of water in his hand. "Here," he said gently and with an effort Rusty managed to choke the pill down with a mouthful of water. He held his hand out and, grimacing, Danny fished another pill out of the bottle. "It says not suitable for children under 12", he pointed out.

With a shrug and a subsequent wince of agony, Rusty managed to suggest that he'd taken them before and nothing catastrophic had happened.

Danny sighed and passed the pill over.

Rusty took another drink of water and his hand was shaking and the water spilled on the floor. Danny grabbed it quickly and set it down.

"We should get you cleaned up first," he said ignoring the second of embarrassment.

He took wet flannel and made to get the blood off Rusty's face and Rusty immediately tried to take it away from him.

"I know you can do it," Danny agreed frustrated. "Let me. Please." Rusty could, because Rusty was stubborn, but it would be difficult and it would take longer, and it would _hurt,_ and Danny wanted – needed - to do something to help.

Rusty looked at him for a long moment and Danny had no idea what he was seeing. But he let go of the flannel and tilted his head back for Danny to see what was there.

"Thank you," Danny whispered. He was as gentle as he could be, and he knew how much it hurt Rusty, and he knew how much it hurt him, as he cleaned the blood away to reveal the bruises and the swelling and the cuts and grazes beneath. It hurt to watch the water in the basin turn red. It hurt each time Rusty stilled and clenched his fists and didn't make a sound. It hurt. _They_ were hurt.

"Okay," he said at last. "Your arm next, I think."

Rusty looked up at him and grimaced.

Danny nodded. "Yeah." He wasn't looking forward to it either. He thought for a moment. "We need light."

He looked round the room and finally dragged the lamp from his desk over. The cable just stretched enough. "Think you can hold this up so I can see?" he asked and Rusty nodded and held the lamp aloft.

Danny looked at him thoughtfully. "Don't you normally stand in front of Manhattan?"

The smile was faint. But it made Danny happy.

He looked down at Rusty's arm. The glass shards shone in the lamplight. A moment and he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and dreamed a thousand wishes. Then, with a steady hand, he took the tweezers and got a firm grip on the largest piece of glass and _pulled_.

The sound Rusty made broke his heart and he had to look up, had to apologise and the words fell off his tongue, because he _never_ wanted to hurt, didn't understand how anyone could ever want to hurt, didn't understand why no one else _saw,_ didn't understand why no one else _cared._

Rusty was looking straight back at him and they were together.

He took a deep breath and continued.

Glass bottle. It had to be. Vodka bottle probably, that was what he'd seen littering the floor the few times he'd been at Rusty's place. Rusty didn't let him come over too often. Said it wasn't safe. Probably it wasn't. Vodka bottle then, and Danny imagined Rusty's father – mother? Father, probably, Rusty had always said his mom was mostly easy to dodge – Danny imagined the bottle being brought down on Rusty's arm.

Easy to dodge.

A memory stirred. Several memories. But last month had been the most recent. The shop on the corner, down from the bridge. The shopkeeper who had been yelling at him. Insisting they'd been shoplifting. He'd taken a step towards them and Rusty had stepped in front of Danny and before Danny could react, the man had stepped closer and Rusty had thrown his arm up in front of his face, trying to protect himself, and Danny had come to his senses and grabbed Rusty and they'd ran and hadn't stopped running until they were at least ten blocks away. Rusty had thrown his arm up to protect himself.

"He was aiming for your head," he said aloud and the fury was roaring in his ears.

Rusty looked at him and there was nothing in his face that denied it and nothing that suggested that it mattered.

Danny looked down at the mess Rusty's arm was in, at the force, at the brutality. "He was aiming at your _head_ ," he repeated and if the bottle had hit, if it had broken on Rusty's head as hard as it had broken on his arm, Danny wouldn't be talking to Rusty right now. Rusty would be dead.

Rusty could be dead.

There was anxiety in Rusty's eyes as he stared at Danny and the concern was obvious and Danny almost laughed. "Oh, I'm _fine_ ," he assured Rusty. "And I guess you're fine too, right?"

Rusty's lips quirked slightly but he nodded seriously.

"Yeah," Danny said, and funny was difficult. "This is what fine feels like."

He took the lamp from Rusty and carefully shone it over his arm. Nothing glinted. Even when he wiped the blood away, didn't seem like anything else was in there. "Think that's all of it?" he asked.

Rusty nodded and his head was hanging low and the exhaustion was an almost tangible force.

"Not that much left," Danny said gently, and Rusty smiled his thanks for the lie.

He bandaged Rusty's arm as best he could, considering that he really had no idea what he was doing. The bandages ended up thick and unwieldy and probably uncomfortable, but at least he thought it would stay together. Silently he took the opportunity to apply antiseptic and plasters to the cuts and welts on Rusty's face and chest. "There," he said presently and hesitated. "Just your back now."

Rusty nodded and made no move to move.

Danny sat down on the sofa beside him and leaned in as close as he could. It was stupid and ridiculous. Rusty was the one that was hurting and Danny needed the comfort of him being close.

"Need to get it done," he said presently. "Then you can rest and I'll stay right here."

It was all he had to offer. He wished there was more.

* * *

_A hand grabs his hair and he is slammed into the wall and then the hand pulls his head back and his face is smashed against the wall again and again and again, and there is blood in his eyes and no matter how much he blinks, he can't bring the world back into focus._

_Dad lets go and he falls into a helpless heap._

" _Trying to run away. Just like that fucking slut you call a mother."_

_He sits still and concentrates on breathing and being invisible._

" _Look at me, you little shit," Dad sounds angrier than Rusty has ever known him and he looks up carefully. "On your feet," Dad snarls and he scrambles to obey. He tries to ignore the unquenchable spark of anger and defiance that burns inside._

_He keeps eye contact. "I'm sorry, sir," he tries, his voice quiet and respectful and above all steady and he can feel the blood dripping off his lip as he speaks._

" _You think this is funny, you little shit?" Dad takes a step towards him and Rusty flinches back and cannot hide it and Dad stares at him with contempt._

_This isn't funny. Bugs Bunny is funny. The Pink Panther is funny. This is not at all funny. "No, sir," he says and he isn't entirely surprised by the series of punches that are driven into his chest and stomach, that leave him gasping, leave his arms wrapped around himself like he's trying to hold all the hurt inside._

 

* * *

Rusty looked at him through a haze of pain and darkness and Danny hated that the fear hadn't faded away. Then he sighed and nodded and Danny moved aside and Rusty lay on the sofa, his face buried in his arms.

His back hadn't got miraculously better in the past hour. Danny felt sick looking at it. So many open wounds. As if Rusty's back had been sliced open again and again and again. So much pain. And Danny didn't know how and he could never hope to understand why, and he saw the bruises underneath, saw the shape of bootprints ground into Rusty's body and he wanted to scream.

He took the tub of antiseptic cream and started at the shoulders. Slow and careful and gentle and Rusty tensed up with every touch, and it was about pain and it was about memories so vivid that Danny could almost feel them.

"I thought you were a werewolf when you first knocked," he began casually, and Rusty lifted his head slightly and fixed Danny with a puzzled, glassy stare.

"I know, I know," Danny agreed and his fingers smoothed along a wide and angry gash. "No such thing as monsters."

Rusty smiled and laid his head back down and Danny's voice was helping, he knew that.

"Was watching this movie before you got here. It was good. Scary. There was this man and he was . . . not very nice. Was angry a lot. He hit his girlfriend and she left him." He winced and hurried on to the next bit. "Anyway, he went walking in the woods, late one night, and he heard something following him, and then this thing leapt out at him from behind a tree. It was all hairy and had huge teeth."

Rusty made a slight sound.

Danny sighed, exasperated. "No, _not_ the tree. The werewolf. Anyway, it cut away but you were meant to assume he got bitten. In the meantime, his girlfriend had moved in with her sister and her two boys." He paused. "Actually, I think only one of the kids was hers. It was quite difficult to tell though. They acted like brothers." He thought of some of the kids at school. "They acted like brothers should act," he corrected himself.

"Anyway, she's living there, and they start to find dead animals around the outside of the house, all torn to bits. And they start to hear this howling at night, and claws scratching on the door."

Rusty shifted his head slightly.

Danny smiled. "No, it didn't knock."

There was a thoughtful pause.

"You're right," Danny agreed at last. "Would be a better way of getting in. Guess it wanted them scared." He finished Rusty's back and sighed. "Rus'?"

Quietly Rusty slid off his pants and Danny looked at the welts and gouges and cuts that covered Rusty's bottom and thighs, and nodded to himself. This was what they were supposed to ignore and endure. Rusty's face was buried in his arms and Danny was well aware of the feelings of helplessness and humiliation, and he hurt and he hated.

He resumed rubbing the cream in and carried on with the story. Places other than the real world were best. For both of them. "Anyway, she went walking late at night, and she heard something following her so she decided to take a short cut through the graveyard."

Rusty was decidedly sceptical.

" _I_ don't know why, guess she didn't watch that many movies. Anyway, she can hear the thing behind her and her flashlight starts going out and suddenly the screen is full of this thing's paw, and it reaches out towards her and she's just standing there screaming . . . " He trailed off.

He knew the question. He didn't really know the answer, but he knew the question.

"No, she doesn't die," he said definitely. "Because suddenly the two boys arrive, right? And they have this silver knife that they took from the visiting professor and they have this little bag of magic herbs. And the herbs slow the werewolf down and the boys stab him and he _dies_." He paused for a stunned second. "He dies," he repeated, and bit his lip hard before continuing.

"And everyone is so happy that the werewolf is gone that they give the boys his house and his stuff. And it turns out that he was rich, and so the boys have all this money and they don't need to rely on anyone anymore, so they live together for the rest of their lives and they spend all their time having adventures, and helping their friends and having as much fun as possible and they never have to be alone anymore because they have each other."

Rusty was looking at him.

Danny looked away and didn't meet his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, that didn't really happen."

He sighed and there was silence for a couple of minutes. "All done," he said at last. "Stay there, I'll get you something to wear."

He dug around in his drawers until he came up with a pair of pyjamas. With a slight smile he brought them over to Rusty.

Rusty unfolded them and the look on his face when he saw the duck holding the baseball bat was priceless. He looked over at Danny and Danny smiled at the half grin.

"My aunt got them for me," he explained. They were quite frighteningly cute. They were also incredibly thick and warm and somewhat too small for him. But most importantly, they had made Rusty smile. Even if the smile was a little disbelieving and a little mocking. "I don't think she likes me very much," he added pensively.

Rusty smiled some more and Danny helped him struggle into the pyjamas. The shivering had lessened. The pain had faded, although Danny had a feeling that was mostly due to the drugs.

"You want to stay on the sofa or you want to lie in the bed?" he asked gently and Rusty curled in on himself fractionally and Danny hated the answer that he had.

"It's okay," he assured quickly. "We can stay here as long as you need."

Rusty looked at him.

Danny scowled. "You think I'm going to go sleep in the bed while you're here? Not going to happen, okay? I'm staying with you."

There was a pause. Danny sighed. "Because I _want_ to," he said quietly and he didn't examine the simple truth that he couldn't do anything else.

Rusty nodded and his eyes were closed and his head tilted until it had fallen onto the arm of the sofa.

"Just a minute," Danny suggested and he pulled the blankets and the pillows off the bed and worked on fixing them so that Rusty could be as comfortable as possible.

The smile he was awarded warmed him in a way that nothing else ever could. "I'm full of good ideas," he pointed out lightly.

He curled on the far side of the sofa and watched Rusty drift towards sleep.

"Eventually we're going to have to talk about the fact that you're not talking," he said quietly.

Rusty didn't say anything.

* * *

_Dad brandishes a piece of paper in his face. He only manages to focus on it for a second, but he's almost certain it's in Mom's handwriting. "You drove your mother away, you pathetic, selfish little bastard. She's gone."_

" _When will she be back?" he asks quietly, because Dad without Mom is harder to deal with._

_Without warning Dad punches him in the face again and his head hits back against the wall. "She's not coming back! Moron!" His hand is around Rusty's throat and he leans in close, and Rusty can feel some long-forgotten part of himself crying inside. "She got so fed up of having to look after you all the time that she upped and walked out."_

" _No!" For a second he doesn't even realise he's spoken, until he's backhanded across the face, and he remembers that he's not supposed to argue with his betters._

" _You're such a useless, pathetic, needy burden that your own mother couldn't be bothered with you," Dad continues and his tone demands no arguments._

_Rusty keeps his mouth shut. Dad punches him in the stomach._

 

* * *

He watched Rusty sleep out of the corner of his eye and relaxed slightly as gradually the trembling faded and some of the tension left Rusty's face. Sleep was healing; Danny just wished it was a little more peaceful. Wished Rusty wasn't constantly turning over and over and stilling with each little movement. Rusty was in pain. Even while he was sleeping, Rusty was in pain and somehow, in some way, that hurt Danny too.

Rusty wasn't talking. And Danny didn't know why. Because if Rusty just wasn't willing to talk about what happened, they could work round that. They'd had to a few times before; there were always painful places. Danny thought of one of the times that he had been over at Rusty's place, and Rusty's mom had been sitting at the kitchen table, dressed only in her underwear, lighting matches and dropping them onto the floor, watching them burn with empty eyes. She hadn't even seemed to see him and Rusty when they crept into the kitchen to get some food, though he'd followed Rusty's example and kept well out of arm's reach. They'd never talked about that, but Danny had squeezed Rusty's hand tightly as they walked to the shops and a couple of Fudgsicles had fallen into his pocket for later.

But this was different. Larger, and Danny could _feel_ the shape of the pain that was overshadowing them. Something too much for Rusty to shrug off the way he always had in the past.

It had never been this bad before. Not anytime Danny had seen. Not anytime Rusty had implied. And Rusty wasn't _talking_ to him and that made Danny so scared. And it made him think they were doing the right thing handling it by themselves. Even if he did look at the physical and feel like screaming, even if he did want to drag Rusty to the doctors and make them look and make them do something, they had to rely on themselves. Because Danny didn't know what would happen if the authorities found out, but he thought that maybe they'd say that Rusty was crazy and maybe they'd take him away and lock him up someplace, and Danny _knew_ how that would destroy Rusty. Knew how that would destroy _them_.

They were on their own. Like always.

Cautiously he reached out a hand and rested it in Rusty's hair being careful not to wake, not to startle. _He_ needed the comfort.

It was only when he woke up a couple of hours later that he realised that he'd fallen asleep.

He was woken by Rusty falling on the floor with a moan of pain and frustration, and instantly Danny was on his feet, cursing himself. He shouldn't have drifted off. Not even for a second.

"You should have woken me," he scolded gently as he helped Rusty to his feet, and he winced as he realised the depths of pain and exhaustion. "What were you doing, anyway?"

In response Rusty glanced over Danny's shoulder towards the bathroom, and Danny realised that the silence hadn't passed yet. "You should have woken me," he repeated in a quieter voice. "Think you can manage - "

With a glare, Rusty nodded and stepped away from him. This time Danny was in time to catch him before he fell.

"I'll walk you there," he said firmly. He could see that Rusty couldn't put any weight on his feet. Could see that the mere fact of being awake was tiring him out. Could see the dull trembling in Rusty's limbs. He sighed. "Come on."

They hobbled across the floor and Danny waited just outside the door until he heard Rusty struggle with the flush and with a grimace, he stepped in and helped. Then he froze.

"Was that blood I saw?" he asked, fear in his voice.

Rusty shrugged in a way that meant yes, and leaned on the sink to wash his hands.

"We need to go to a doctor," Danny insisted. "That's not right."

There was a pause and Rusty turned to look at him and Danny could see the unconcern and the resignation and the acceptance. It had happened before. Rusty was used to it. "Oh," he said quietly. "Does it hurt?"

Rusty grinned. Right. Right. Compared to what?

He clenched his fists. " _Fuck_ ," he breathed in a voice that trembled. It was the worst word he knew. "I hate that bastard."

There was a second and he saw Rusty retreat, watched the animation vanish, the life fade. He watched Rusty shrink in on himself, saw the doubt and the uncertainty and the blame. He could almost hear the silent voice. _I was bad. I got what was coming to me._

"You think there's anything in the world you could do that would make this okay?" he asked and his anger spiked. "You looked in a mirror lately, Rus'?"

Rusty's eyes stayed resolutely away from the bathroom mirror and the hand that gripped the edge of the sink tightened and trembled. Guilt hung in the air.

"You think this is about punishment?" Danny demanded. " _He likes hurting you_."

A quick turn of his head and there was anger on Rusty's face and none of it was directed where it belonged.

"I. Don't. Care," Danny hissed in a whisper. "Don't care what your parents say, don't care what my parents say. I wouldn't care if everyone who ever lived came here, right now, one by one and told me that you deserved it. They'd still be wrong and I'd still be right."

Rusty was staring at him.

Danny wouldn't be stopped. "If it was me, Rus'. If it was me. If my dad decided one day to hit me and hurt me until I couldn't walk across the floor, is there something that would make that alright with you?"

He watched the emotion play across Rusty's face, and for a moment he thought that Rusty would cry and then Rusty was sitting on the edge of the bath and Danny's arms were around him, holding as tight as he could without risking hurting. "I'm sorry," he whispered and he wasn't just apologising for what he'd said. "I'm so sorry."

They stayed like that for a moment and then Rusty carefully pulled away and Danny sighed and they stood up and stumbled back to the sofa.

"You need anything?" Danny asked, and Rusty shook his head.

Danny thought more carefully. "You _want_ anything? More painkillers? Glass of water? Hot chocolate? Something to eat?"

Rusty didn't offer any kind of response, but Danny was aware of the flicker at the hot chocolate. "I'll make some for both of us. Think we still have some marshmallows."

Rusty smiled at him.

* * *

_Pain explodes behind his eyes as the fist crashes into the side of his head._

" _She got so fed up of you bothering her, talking all the time, annoying her, that she abandoned you, even though it meant leaving_ me. _You understand that? You ruined her life. My life. You ruin everyone's life!"_

_He nods. He knows he did. Does. He's heard the story before._

" _Your mom was a stupid little slut who got pregnant at fourteen. And I stood by her. Because that's what a_ real _man does. Not that you'll ever know anything about that. Useless little sissy. That's right, we got_ you! _A fucking, pathetic, crying piece of shit! And your mom's had seven years - "_

" _\- nine," Rusty corrects stupidly because he knows how old he is, and the blow to his kidneys makes him curl tightly round the pain._

" _Years of putting up with you. And now she's gone. Trying to get a better life for herself, and she's dumped you with me like the worthless trash you are. You got any reasons why I shouldn't just leave you too?"_

_His eyes are on the floor again and he wants to look up, wants to scream and shout that he is too worth something, that if he tries he can make people like him, that he could be good if he was given a chance, that he has_ Danny _and Danny likes him, and that is more wonderful than Dad can ever imagine. "No sir, I don't" he whispers instead._

" _No," Dad agrees. "No, and you know why? Because there aren't any. And I'm going to stay anyway, because a real man takes responsibility for his mistakes. Even though you're soft and useless and bad and you're never going to amount to anything. I'll stay even though you're the worst mistake the world's ever seen. Now_ what do you say _?"_

" _Thank you," Rusty mutters, and he's almost knocked off his feet by the punch._

" _For . . . ?" Dad prompts._

_He thinks furiously about everything that he'd be grateful for if he wasn't the awful person Dad says he is._

" _Thank you," he swallows and hates this, hates himself for_ saying _it even as he hates himself for not_ feeling _it. By any measure he is wrong. "Thank you for looking after me and letting me stay here even when I don't deserve it."_

" _And for giving you the punishment you deserve," Dad insists._

_He stares at the floor and watches, fascinated as the blood drips onto the floor and forms a pattern._

" _Say it, you little shit."_

_He hurts._

 

* * *

After a couple of false starts he managed to find a pan and stuck the milk on to heat. Outside he could see the beginnings of sunrise. A new day. Didn't feel like it. And that meant Mom could be home in the next few hours, and if the house still looked like the set for a horror movie, it wasn't completely unreasonable to think she might get upset. Not _just_ for the upholstery.

With a sigh he left the milk and went and mopped the blood off the floor. Rusty's blood. It made him feel sick to think of it. Cleaning took a while, and then he remembered to turn over the cushions on the sofa in the living room. Looked a little misshapen when he'd finished with it, but he didn't think anyone would notice. And on the plus side, the living room carpet was dark enough not to show the blood. Somehow he doubted that had been his parents' rationale when they bought it.

As soon as he stepped back into the kitchen he was aware of the smell of something burning. Oh. _Fuck._ The milk had boiled over, boiled dry, and was generally completely incapable of being made into hot chocolate. And the pan was probably incapable of ever being used again. Sighing, he dumped the whole mess in the sink and started over.

* * *

_He is knocked to the floor and he doesn't even know exactly where Dad hit him. After a while the pain melts together._

_Surprised, when no more blows fall, he looks up. Dad is more angry than he's ever seen him. "Take your clothes off," Dad orders while he takes off his own belt._

_Rusty shakes his head and tries to get to his feet and when that doesn't work he crawls towards the door. Dad grabs the back of his jumper, pulls him to his feet and hauls the jumper over his head. He goes to pull Rusty's pants off and Rusty bites him in the arm._

_He sees the fist coming but he can't dodge and for a while the world is painted in shades of grey and he is helpless._

 

* * *

It was another twenty minutes before he managed to stagger back upstairs to Rusty, laden down with two mugs of hot chocolate, a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a bag of marshmallows.

Rusty looked a little amused as he nudged the door open with his foot.

"Practising to be a waiter," Danny explained ."Or a room service guy."

Rusty frowned.

"You know, like in hotels? With the trolley? You've seen them on TV."

He watched the understanding bloom and he smiled and pressed one of the mugs into Rusty's hands. "More painkillers?" he asked gently and he didn't wait for the answering nod before he grabbed the bottle, shook a couple of pills out and passed them over. "How's your back?"

Rusty shrugged painfully and Danny figured that meant "It hurts and I'm not showing you."

He sighed and accepted. "We can put some more of that cream on in another couple of hours. You think that'll help?"

Another shrug and this one seemed to signify vague agreement. Least something was helping.

He looked closely at Rusty. The pain was still sharp but the exhaustion had lessened and he didn't think that Rusty would be going back to sleep immediately. And he didn't want there to be silence, thought, somehow, that silence would be a very bad idea, but he didn't want to be sitting here, coming up with stupid, positive things to say that didn't demand that Rusty talk to him before he was ready.

Considering, he wandered over to his bookcase and grabbed the first book he saw that he was positive Rusty hadn't read. _He_ hadn't read it either. It had been a birthday, present, a couple of years back. From the same aunt who gave him those pyjamas, actually.

Book in hand, he carefully settled on the couch, close enough to touch and not actually touching and he pulled the duvet up and over both of them.

Rusty was laughing at him. He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue, opened the book and started to read aloud.

"It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful."

He managed to resist the urge to laugh. Or cry.

* * *

_He is stripped and dragged to the bed. Dad drops him over the edge, and he tries to get up, tries to run, (and he wants to run to Danny, wants to see the way Danny looks at him, as if it matters, as if it all matters)_

_There is a crack and a line of pain rips into his back where the belt tears into him. He is horrified to hear himself cry, a noise of pain and shock and hurt and bewilderment._

_This has never happened before. Dad is about the immediate; Rusty does something wrong he gets punched or kicked or slapped as soon as the thought is in Dad's mind. This is different punishment and it hurts and he is afraid._

" _Fuck, boy, no wonder your mom left. You're such a cry baby." He cringes at the justified disgust in Dad's voice and clenches his fists at the satisfaction. He will not make another sound, he resolves. He will not cry and he will not whimper and he will not scream. Not because he wants to act tough or because he thinks it will make Dad happy. Not even because he understands that noise brings more pain – and as if in answer to the thought the belt comes down on him again and again and the pain burns deep into him._

_No. He will not make a sound because he chooses not to._

 

* * *

He read. "Occasionally one come across parents who take the opposite line, who show no interest at all in their children and these of course are far worse than the doting ones. Mr and Mrs Wormwood were two such parents. They had a son called Michael and a daughter called Matilda and the parents looked upon Matilda in particular as nothing more than a scab. A scab is something you have to put up with until the time comes when you can pick it off and flick it away. Mr and Mrs Wormwood looked forward enormously to the time when they could pick their little daughter off and flick her away, preferably into the next county or even further than that.

It is bad enough when parents treat _ordinary_ children as though they were scabs and bunions but it becomes somehow a lot worse when the child is _extra_ -ordinary, and by that I mean sensitive and brilliant."

Pausing and ignoring the thoughts and the echo that rippled through him, he realised that Rusty was looking at him.

"Sorry," he said, and he made sure that Rusty could see the apology was genuine. "Never read this before. Seriously, Rus', I wasn't trying to make some secret point about your parents. It's just what the book says."

Rusty continued to look at him, and his _expression_. . .

Danny's lips set in a thin line. "It is _not_ about me," he snapped and they both froze as they heard the front door open.

In terrible silence they listened as Danny's mom walked up the stairs and neither of them so much as breathed until they heard her walk past Danny's door and into the master bedroom.

Danny sighed with relief. "She'll be going to sleep for a few hours and then she'll wake up and head into work," he explained. "Probably about eleven, that's what's happened the last couple of times she was gone all night. If we're careful and quiet, she'll probably leave again without ever noticing us."

He picked the book up and Rusty was looking at him again. "It's _not_ about me," he insisted. "They don't treat me like . . . they're busy, is all. Both of them. They've got lives and they're _busy_ and every time I get in trouble, or whatever, it takes them away from what's important. Can't blame them for being upset."

He looked down at the book but the words blurred in front of his eyes. "It's not the same, Rus', really. Anyway I'm not some helpless little kid like her." He waved the book vaguely.

There was a second of hurt, and he got it instantly. "Of course I don't think you are," he protested indignantly and the thought had never crossed his mind. Rusty was the toughest person he knew. "It's a different thing, is all. And when it's just about being ignored or whatever, it doesn't matter in the same way. No-one's hurt."

He avoided Rusty's steady gaze.

"This coming from you?" he demanded instead. He sighed. "It's different, okay?"

Rusty nodded and leaned back against the arm of the chair. He closed his eye and Danny could see the pain dulling him.

"Besides," Danny went on lightly with only the barest pause. "How come I get to be extraordinary?"

Rusty's eyes snapped open and Danny's breath caught in his throat as he saw the answer in them; straightforward and matter-of-fact and overwhelming.

"Oh," he said in helpless wonder and Rusty smiled at him.

* * *

" _Stupid little shit!" Dad's voice comes from above him and the belt buckle tears into him again and again and again, "I'll make you sorry for driving your mother away."_

_He is sorry. He's very sorry. And he never meant to._

" _You're always whining about something. Always wanting something. Christ, you never_ shut up. _Can you blame her for wanting nothing to do with a snivelling brat like you? Fuck, boy, can't you just learn to be good?"_

_There is nothing but pain and Dad's voice, and maybe he is wrong, maybe Danny is wrong, maybe Dad just wants him to be better because the anger is real and so is the frustration and if he could just be_ good _. . ._

 

* * *

Rusty fell asleep again, shortly after they heard Danny's mom get up and leave for work. For once, Danny didn't pretend not to notice Rusty's anxiety or the way he tensed or the way he shook, and instead he put an arm over Rusty's shoulders and whispered again his certainty that Mom would leave without ever coming in to see him. He was right. That didn't make it easier.

The fact that Rusty was afraid of Danny's parents was another one of those painful places that they didn't choose to confront. Danny knew perfectly well that it had little to do with his actual parents and far more to do with Rusty's instinctive, awful fear of all adults. Even the ones _they_ liked and Danny trusted. He thought of a couple of weeks ago and the cake that Mabel had made for Rusty's birthday and Rusty had been so happy – shining – and Danny had thought he'd never believe Mabel when she insisted that the cake was for him, and then, once that had sank in, he'd thought Rusty would never stop thanking her. He'd been so wonderfully happy. And still when Mabel, beaming with an uninhibited joy of her own, had reached out as if to pull Rusty into a fierce hug, Rusty had cringed and flinched back out of reach, and Danny had needed to think quickly and had loudly burst one of the balloons to cover the moment. And that had been Mabel and Danny's parents were very much not.

But Rusty was more afraid of Danny's parents than he was of other adults, and it had taken some time for Danny to figure out why and longer still for him to accept the reason. Because, yes, there was the fear that Rusty had in general, the simple acceptance he'd acquired throughout his life that anyone could turn round and hurt him any time and for any reason, and there was nothing he could do about it. But there was more than that.

There was a sound, a gasp, a whimper and he looked round sharply to see Rusty huddled in on himself a little tighter, and he could see the trembling, the jerky movements, he could see the nightmare.

"Wake up, Rus'," he said, gentle and insistent, and he reached over and laid a hand on Rusty's shoulder. "Wake up. It's okay. You're safe, I promise. I'm here."

With a muffled cry, Rusty sat straight up, away from Danny, and he looked frantically, stared anxiously at Danny, studying every inch of him, and there was fear and panic and confusion, and it took Danny a few seconds to figure out the why.

"Oh, Rusty," he sighed. "I'm fine, okay? No-one hurt me. No-one laid a finger on me. It was a dream."

Rusty's eyes were wide and he didn't look convinced.

Danny cursed himself for his stupid words earlier. Should've known better. Because Rusty was more afraid of Danny's parents than he was of other adults, and it had taken Danny a long time to realise that while Rusty was afraid that one day they'd turn round and hurt him, he was _terrified_ that one day they'd turn round and hurt _Danny._

"No-one hurt me," he repeated and with everything he didn't feel, he made his tone light. "Really, Dorothy, it was just a dream."

Rusty smiled slightly and relaxed a little, and really he was still asleep, he'd never woken up properly at all, and Danny reached out an arm and wrapped it round Rusty's shoulders and drew him close and he was asleep again in a instant, and probably he'd never even know that he was lying in Danny's arms, his head snug against Danny's chest. Safe. Warm. Cared for.

* * *

_Dad stops at last, decades later, and he turns and leaves the room without a word. Rusty slips onto the ground and with Herculean effort he drags himself under the bed by his fingertips and curls against the wall, making himself as small as possible, being invisible._

_He hurts. He hurts_ so much.

* * *

Danny was warm and comfortable and so deeply asleep that when the door crashed open at first, confused and befuddled, he wondered if the house was falling down. Then the yelling started and he realised that he must have been asleep for hours, for long enough for his mom to finish work and get home.

"Daniel! The pan in the sink is completely ruined. When will you learn to take more care . . . "

Suddenly she stopped, staring at them and Danny became aware that Rusty's head was resting in his lap, that his hand was tangled in Rusty's hair, that his other arm was wrapped round Rusty's chest, and Mom was staring at them and he didn't understand the look on her face.

And Rusty was awake, had in all probability woken up when the door slammed open, and he was tense and frozen, _(like he was afraid the werewolf had found them)_ and when Danny looked down his eyes were blank and empty and Danny's heart clenched. His eyes went back to his mom, still stopped in the doorway and he didn't look away, even as his hand moved up, even as he gripped Rusty's shoulder, even as he offered silent reassurance, he met her gaze and didn't blink.

Then Rusty sat up quickly and Danny knew the sudden movement was painful, and his arm was around his ribs and his breathing was harsh and ragged and Danny's mom was staring at his face, and she couldn't see much, she couldn't possibly see too much, just the bruises, the worst was all safely hidden.

After an unbearable second, Mom turned back to look at him and there was no emotion on his face and he didn't even fully understand the challenge he was offering, but she flushed and left the room without saying anything else.

That was what he wanted. What _they_ wanted. And so he really couldn't explain the terrible feeling of betrayal that overwhelmed him.

He turned and smiled at Rusty. Everything was fine. Everything was just fine.

* * *

_After time has passed and nothing has happened, he creeps out from under the bed and pulls his clothes back on. He needs to get out of here. Needs to. Needs._

_He puts his ear to the bedroom door and he can't hear any noise coming from the living room so he quietly opens the door and sneaks, limps, towards the front door. Towards away. Every step is pain and he is concentrating so hard on not making a sound that he doesn't even see his dad until the man is in front of him, swaying, a bottle clutched in his hand. Drunk, where before he was sober._

" _Look at you," Dad's voice is full of disgust and contempt and he can only be happy that Dad doesn't seem to see the flinch. "Fuck, you're pathetic. Just like your fucking mother. You think she's going to find that better life? Think she can survive without me? She'll be back scratching at the door, begging me to take her back. Think I'm going to? Fuck, I'm better off without that bitch. Just wish she'd taken you with her, that's all."_

_Rusty isn't going to say anything. Isn't. He's going to be good. And he thinks that maybe if he opens his mouth, even for a second, he'll scream and scream and never stop._

 

* * *

Rusty slept for most of the rest of the night and every time he woke up Danny would offer whatever combination of painkillers, ointment, food and drink seemed appropriate. The bandages on Rusty's arm bled through a couple of times and Danny changed them as best he could and he knew how it hurt. At least Rusty's back seemed to have stopped bleeding. Mostly. As long as he didn't move around too much. But the wounds were ugly and painful and everytime Danny looked at them he felt an overwhelming mixture of helplessness and fury.

It had been more than a day, and he was coping with the silence. It was surprising what you could live with. And he didn't want Rusty to be anymore afraid or uncomfortable than was inevitable, didn't want to pressurise Rusty into anything, didn't want to hurt, didn't want to make anything worse – but deep inside, this was killing him. Of course it was. They'd always been able to talk to each other. Right from the start, and that was a lifetime ago, they'd lived in constant communication. There was always something to say. Always some thought to be shared, some joke to be made. Words were to comfort and to hide behind and if that wasn't working, Danny was frightened. Danny was very frightened.

They drank hot chocolate. He read.

"'Of course she did it,' Miss Trunchbull boomed. 'And I'll tell you what. I wish to heavens I was still allowed to use the birch and belt as I did in the good old days! I'd have roasted Matilda's bottom for her so she couldn't sit down for a month!'"

There was a change in the atmosphere. Rusty shifted uncomfortably against the sofa.

Danny froze in sudden revelation. A picture formed in his mind. Long cuts and welts. Red, livid, bloody. Leather and metal raining down pain on the vulnerable, the defenceless.

Rusty stared at him anxiously.

"He hit you with a belt," Danny said and he barely recognised his own voice. "He hit you with a belt."

Rusty's eyes were clouded with pain and memory, and still Danny could see the beginnings of attempted denial, the claims that, really, it wasn't such a big deal after all.

"Rus'," Danny shook his head and held back the angry, frustrated tears by an effort of will. "He _shouldn't._ It's wrong. He whipped you. It's _wrong_." He didn't know any words big enough for how wrong it was. Didn't know there were any. Didn't think that there was any way of explaining how this tore him up inside, how he wanted to be able to protect Rusty, how he wanted things to be different, how he wanted to _make_ things different.

Rusty looked away from him and Danny reached out to grip his hand and Rusty pulled it away with an angry gesture.

"No!" Danny was adamant. "Listen to me, Rusty. You're . . . you're my _friend._ And that means I care about what happens to you. I . . . I care about _you._ And this is wrong, you understand that? Tell me you understand that."

Rusty was shaking his head, not exactly in response to what Danny was saying.

"I don't know all the details?" Danny echoed the thought incredulously. "Rus', there is nothing you could do that could make this all right. And I already told you, there's nothing that'll convince me otherwise."

There was a flicker of something in Rusty's eyes, and, encouraged, Danny pressed on.

"It wasn't your fault, Rusty," he promised. "I don't need to know what happened to be able to tell you that. And I don't care what they said to you. It wasn't your fault."

He watched Rusty consider that and then it all got locked away, and he could see the moment that followed, the moment when Rusty needed, wanted, and he waited for a hopeful second, in case Rusty made the first move, but even as he watched that too was locked away and Danny had to act quickly and he leaned over, brushed his shoulder against Rusty's, comfortably, comfortingly,

"It wasn't your fault," he said again.

Rusty didn't answer. But he laid his hand on the book and, with a smile, Danny picked it up and started reading again.

"Miss Honey turned and walked out of the study feeling depressed but by no means defeated. I am going to do something about this child, she told herself. I don't know what it will be, but I shall find a way to help her in the end."

* * *

_Dad leans forwards and Rusty jumps back and trembles and he can smell the alcohol and he wants to be far away from here. "You mother's a stupid slut, boy," Dad confides. "All women are. She'll be off rubbing up against anyone who'll take her in for the night, you'll see." His voice is pleased and he holds up the bottle. "Want a drink?"_

_Rusty shakes his head. No. Definitely not._

_Dad doesn't listen or doesn't care and he forces the mouth of the bottle against Rusty's lips. It burns him and the combination of blood and alcohol almost makes him gag._

" _Fuck, you're worthless," Dad says and his voice is wondering. He turns away and Rusty seizes his chance and takes a couple of steps back, closer to the door._

_Dad turns back and sees him looking, sees him leaving. His expression turns ugly. "You don't leave," he snarls, and he swings the bottle hard towards Rusty's head._

_Rusty barely manages to get his arm up in time to protect himself and the glass shatters and falls around him like rain._

 

* * *

Danny leaned against the window and the glass was cool on his face. He was so tired. He didn't think he'd ever been this tired in his life. And the sun was rising and it was another day.

"Mom left."

The voice was quiet and came out of nowhere and Danny froze and even as part of him rejoiced, wanted to shout with happiness, he was moving on in his mind to what was important. There was nothing but sympathy on his face as he turned round. No surprise. No elation. Nothing to suggest that Rusty talking was in any way unusual.

"Oh, Rus'," he sighed and he sat back down on the sofa.

"It was my fault," Rusty said quietly, not looking at him and before Danny could say anything he continued. "She said so. She . . . she was fed up of looking after me."

' _When did she ever_ ', Danny wanted to ask, and he winced as Rusty glanced at him and frowned.

"She does," Rusty protested. "She buys food and she writes notes for school when I get too hurt. And she must have done other stuff once. Before I got old enough to look after myself."

Danny sighed. "That isn't - "

" - I used to talk to her, Danny," Rusty said, as if he was admitting to some terrible secret. "I knew it annoyed her and I'd do it anyway. And she got fed up and she left and Dad was angry with me."

"And he hurt you," Danny stated, feeling the cold fury burn deep inside him.

"He woke me up and he hit me a couple of times, and then he got his belt out." Rusty stopped and shuddered and Danny could feel the pain and the misery. "He got his belt out and he . . he . . . " Danny watched as Rusty shook his head and got himself back under tight control. "I drove Mom away and now he's stuck with me. Can't blame him for being angry."

Danny's fists were clenched. "Rus' . . . "

Rusty looked at him, sharp and desperate. "I deserved this, Danny. I did."

"You don't have to put up with this," Danny tried.

Rusty seemed to find that almost amusing. "What am I going to do?"

There was a pause and then they both spoke at once, voices overlapping and the only thing that mattered was making the point.

"He hits - "

" - he never wanted - "

" - you think that - "

" - I'm not exactly - "

" - I'll _never_ \- "

" - he's got every right - "

" - there's nothing - "

" - _he hurts me, Danny_." There was a pause and the admission hung in the air. "He hurts me so much," and Rusty's voice was a whisper and then he turned away and his shoulders were shaking and with a stab, Danny realised that Rusty was crying.

He'd never seen Rusty cry before. Not once.

Gently he leans over and he pulls Rusty back, into his arms, and he holds him close and lets him cry and he whispers the only words of comfort he has.

"I'm here, Rus', I'm here and I'm not going to leave you. Not ever."

* * *

_Dad is momentarily off-balance and Rusty ignores the pain and the feeling that he's bleeding more than he ought to and he runs for the door, fear and need letting him do just a little more than should be possible._

" _You tell your friends about this, you make sure you tell them you had it coming!" Dad shouts after him and Rusty rejoices that he isn't being followed._

_The landing is cold and he pauses, shaking and already exhausted, at the top of the stairs. He is being watched and he turns round just in time to see Mrs Garcia slam her door shut hurriedly. Fair enough. He hates the way she looks at him anyway._

_He wants to sit down and knows he can't, because if he lets himself rest right now he'll never be able to get up again. Hurts too much to think about resting. He staggers downstairs, leaning on the wall and leaving a little trail of bloodied handprints on the paintwork._

Danny _, he decides. He will go to Danny and he feels proud of himself for making it sound as though he had a choice._

_Right now he craves the comfort that Danny is, the warmth and affection that no one else will ever offer him._

_He will go to Danny._

_And eventually he will tell Danny the truth. That he had it coming._

 

* * *

Hours had passed and Rusty hadn't said another word. And that was all right. It was.

From downstairs he heard the front door opening and closing and he smiled in genuine happiness. Dad must be home at last. Eagerly he started towards the hall and as soon as his hand was on the door, he heard his mom's voice.

" _Oh, look what the cat's dragged in. Do you have any idea what that son of yours has done now? He's completely out of control and - "_

As the shouting began, Danny turned away from the door.

Rusty was asleep on the sofa, sprawled out on his stomach. He looked peaceful. He looked young. Danny's heart ached.

Downstairs the argument raged. Danny closed his eyes and, impulsively, brushed a kiss against Rusty's cheek.

When he opened his eyes Rusty was staring at him, wide-eyed and without even the beginnings of understanding. His fingers traced over his cheek where Danny had kissed him.

And Danny thought about trying to explain, thought about trying to put into words what he felt, but he didn't understand that himself.

Instead he dropped to the floor in front of the sofa and leaned his head back, and he could feel Rusty's breath against his hair.

There was angry screaming below them and they sat in silence and Danny wondered about a world where the werewolves won.


	24. Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the last of the three chapters I was planning on posting today. (I'm mostly saying that for anyone who, like myself, sees a story they've been following posted and immediately goes to the last chapter. :))
> 
> Timeline
> 
> 1\. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
> 
> 2\. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
> 
> 3\. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.
> 
> 4\. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve
> 
> 5\. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 6\. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 7\. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 8\. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.
> 
> 9\. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
> 
> 10\. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
> 
> 11\. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
> 
> 12\. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
> 
> 13\. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
> 
> 14\. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thireen, Danny is sixteen
> 
> 15\. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen
> 
> 16\. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
> 
> 17\. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
> 
> 18\. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
> 
> 19\. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
> 
> 20\. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
> 
> 21\. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
> 
> And sequels after they move away!
> 
> 'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17
> 
> 'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19

Mabel was serving a customer when they came in, but she spotted them and hastily signalled them over. Which was interesting. Normally she left them to get settled and then came over for a chat when she had the time. Something must have happened, and Rusty glanced at Danny quickly, but Danny didn't know either; he just smiled and wandered over to the counter to watch Mabel pouring coffee.

"Morning, Mabel," he said, as soon as the customer's attention was back on his newspaper.

"Hi," Rusty added, with a grin.

She paused and smiled warmly at both of them. "And where have you two been? The place has been positively quiet the last while. I was starting to miss you." The tease was loud and clear in her voice.

Two weeks. They'd been having an enforced stay-at-Danny's-and-watch-movies-and-eat-popcorn weekend the first week and then the second his bruises hadn't faded quite enough for him to be happy that Mabel wouldn't say anything.

"Sorry," he said sincerely.

"We've not been cheating on you with any other diners," Danny added and she laughed.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" she demanded. Then she leaned forwards. "There's a boy in here looking for you." There was trepidation in her voice. And he could understand that, they'd used the 'bullies' excuse often enough – maybe too often – and she didn't want him hurt in her place. Still. As far as he was aware – as far as _they_ were aware – no one was _looking for them_ , looking for them. Which meant it was probably just someone looking for them.

"Thanks, Mabel," Danny said, looking – as he almost always did in public – as though he knew exactly what was going on. "He still here?"

She nodded. "In a booth in the back," she told them. "Can I bring you any food over?"

"Coffee and a burger please, Mabel," Danny said with a smile .

"Milkshake and a bowl of fries and a jelly donut please, Mabel," Rusty decided.

She raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. "And . . . " he scanned the counter. "An apple?" he suggested.

She smiled at them. "Sure, honey. I'll bring it over."

They paused as they walked further into the diner. There weren't many customers of course. Their usual table – the one close to the back door that gave the best view of the street and both exits – was empty. There was an old woman picking at a muffin. The man at the counter, sipping his coffee. And . . . over in the last booth, facing away from them, there was Mike.

Oh. That was interesting. They exchanged a glance and Danny didn't have any ideas to the 'why' either.

They slid into the booth opposite him and he looked surprised to see them.

"Hi, guys," he said nervously, looking round furtively.

Rusty carefully didn't look at Danny. Suddenly this felt like a clandestine meeting and he resisted the urge to check the salt and pepper for listening devices.

"Hello, Mike," Danny said, amusement sparkling in his voice. "You been looking for us?"

"Because you've found us," Rusty added.

"Right," Mike nodded, twisting his coffee mug in his hand. "Someone said that you ate lunch here most Saturdays. So I figured I'd get here early and wait."

Rusty wondered just how many cups of coffee Mike's waiting had involved. "What can we do for you?" he asked.

"I was . . . well, I was talking to Jeff Thomson." He stopped.

Danny nodded encouragingly. "Go on."

"He said that you - "

Rusty held up a hand quickly as Mabel brought their food over and Mike shut up.

He blinked down at his plate. Huh. Apparently his bowl of fries came with a sandwich and a salad. Aware of Danny's look of amusement, he glanced up at Mabel enquiringly. "Uh, Mabel? I didn't order - "

She looked at him, lips pursed and he closed his mouth. Right. He wasn't going to argue; Mabel had clearly decided he was getting skinny again. He'd just have to make sure that she charged them when they left.

Mike, oblivious to all the unspoken, laughed at the food laid out on the table. "Honestly, Rusty, don't they feed you at home?"

Mabel quickly laid Danny's coffee and burger in front of him and abruptly walked away. Danny sat next to him and far away, and Rusty didn't have to look to know about the tension and the misery and the stillness, and he wanted to remind Danny, to tell Mabel, that it wasn't that bad, that it had never been that bad.

But he had to cover before Mike understood any more than he should. He grinned. "What? I'm hungry," he said truthfully, popping a fry in his mouth and eating it before continuing. "And really, I think better when I'm eating. So you should be pleased. Now. What's the problem?"

"You know how I'm in the drama club?" Mike asked, and Rusty took a forkful of salad and nodded. "Well, we've had our budget slashed."

"Ouch," he commented.

"Sounds painful," Danny agreed lightly, and Rusty breathed a silent sigh of relief that the moment was passed.

Mike shot them an annoyed look. "This is serious," he insisted. "We don't have any money to buy the props we need."

Danny blinked. "Props?"

Rusty leaned towards him. "Means the things they use on stage to pretend it's the real world."

"Right," Mike nodded. "More or less. Set furnishings and hand props. Items we use. Anyway, the play's on Friday, and Mr Harrigan says that we can do without and just mime, but . . . "

"You don't want to," Rusty nodded.

"And you thought we could help," Danny agreed with a smile.

"Well, you've been doing a lot of things for a lot of people lately," Mike explained, "And I don't think I want to know how - "

" - probably not - " Rusty put in.

" - but I've got a list."

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and pushed it across the table. They looked down at it for a long moment.

"Huh," Rusty said thoughtfully, and Danny was already considering.

Watching them carefully, Mike went on. "Obviously, we couldn't really pay you, but I could give you a couple of tickets for the play, and you could get producer credits." He grimaced. "Really guys, I'd owe you an enormous favour."

Danny looked up. "Really?" he said slowly.

Mike looked confused. "Yeah, sure. Anything." And Rusty almost wanted to tell him that was a little hasty.

Still. He remained stuck on the list. He frowned at the last item.

Apparently Mike must have caught the look. "Hey, it could be worse. Least I'm not asking you to help me stage Aida," he grinned.

They glanced quickly at each other. Enough to acknowledge the joint incomprehension. Oh well. He pulled his fries closer and looked back at Mike.

Food and more information. That was what he needed.

* * *

After Mike had left, Danny stared down at the list. A spinning wheel, a guitar, smoking test tubes, a wedding dress and a sword.

He shook his head. "What _is_ he putting on?" he asked wonderingly.

Rusty looked at the list. "Cinderella?" he suggested.

"With the test tubes?" Danny frowned, then he blinked. "You mean Sleeping Beauty" he pointed out.

"Do I?" Rusty asked suspiciously.

Danny nodded. "Sleeping Beauty is the one where she pricks her finger and falls asleep. Cinderella is the one with the pumpkin and the glass shoe." He was positive of this.

"Oh." He watched Rusty consider. There was a sudden grin. "Actually, I've not seen either of them. What's the one with the glass coffin and the - "

" - Rus' -" he sighed.

" - necrophiliac?"

He grinned, shaking his head. "You really wanna be saying that where Mabel might overhear?"

Rusty looked slightly apprehensive. "No," he said definitely.

"Right," Danny agreed. "Where'd you learn these words anyway?"

He got a look. "Your English homework. Last month. Remember?"

"Oh." He did. "You know, I don't think those were the words Mrs Patterson was looking for."

"You think?" Rusty asked with a roll of his eyes.

Time for a quick change of subject. He smiled. Speaking of Disney movies . . . "Maybe it's - "

" - _not_ Bambi," Rusty interrupted firmly. "And not Aida either."

He couldn't help but laugh. "That's going to annoy you, isn't it?" Rusty didn't like it when there were things he didn't understand.

Rusty glared at him absently. "You know, there's a spinning wheel in the public library."

"Really?" he asked intently, thoughts already forming.

"In the storeroom in the back," Rusty nodded.

Wait a minute. Wait just a minute here. He grinned. "How do you know so much about the library?"

Rusty shot him a look. "Some of us aren't actually afraid of books," he said nastily and Danny's grin faded. There was something Rusty was trying to distract him from.

"How do you know so much about the library?" he asked again, seriously this time, and Rusty couldn't meet his gaze. He sighed. "Last summer," he stated.

Staring down at the table, Rusty picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Last summer. While I was away," he went on and he closed his eyes and thought about Rusty being hurt and abandoned and afraid and alone.

Rusty reached across the table and laid a hand on his, and he opened his eyes. "It's all right, Danny," Rusty said quietly. "Really. I promise."

"Of course it is," he agreed hollowly.

"It was warm. I could stay in there all day and as long as I was quiet and relatively clean, no one complained," Rusty told him and Danny nodded and suppressed the part of him that wanted to uselessly scream and rage at the world, the part of him that ached, the part of him that wanted to cry, to show people, to make them see that life wasn't fair, and it wasn't right. As if they didn't already know that.

Rusty was looking at him apprehensively, and really, this wasn't the time or the place to get into another discussion _(argument)_ about 'should be' and 'is' and about what Rusty deserved and what he got. He swallowed his emotions with difficulty. "So you want to go and find out how we're doing this?"

* * *

Later, and they sat outside the steps of the library, apparently playing marbles. The reality of it was that Rusty was cheating and Danny was trying to figure out how. Oh, he knew fine well that by far the easiest way for him to find out would be to simply ask – Rusty would tell him immediately - but that was a lot less fun. Most of their attention was focused on the door anyway. The library had shut an hour ago, give or take, and they needed to know how long it took for the building to empty.

"Producers," Rusty commented out of nowhere, spinning a marble round and round absent-mindedly.

Danny glanced over at him. "Yeah?"

"You feel more like Gene Wilder or Zero Mostel?"

Oh, that was . . . "Got to tell you, 'We find the defendants incredibly guilty' is not a phrase I want to be associated with right now, Rus'."

Rusty grinned. "How about 'I want everything I've ever seen in the movies'?"

Better. Definitely better, and he couldn't have stopped the smile if he'd wanted to. The door opened and a small crowd of people exited the library, chatting happily. There was a long moment involving keys and locks, and then the library staff were walking down the steps, and around and past Danny and Rusty. It took something of an effort not to look up, not to look interested, but he stayed still, stayed smiling happily at the game until after the crowd had dispersed and wandered off their separate ways. "That everyone?" he asked. He'd thought so, but always best to check.

"Seven," Rusty nodded. "Almost certain."

"So, what, a little over an hour for them to clear the building?" he asked, and they picked up the marbles and wandered up the steps.

"Looks like," Rusty agreed. "Workable."

Seemed likely. They examined the door carefully.

"Locks look easy enough," Rusty said with confidence.

Danny was staring up though, had seen the problem. "Alarm system," he pointed out shortly.

"Oh," Rusty said with a grimace. "Guess we'll - "

" - no," he said thoughtfully. If he had to guess, he'd say that just the door was alarmed. "How long would you think that it takes for someone to respond to one of those?"

Rusty shrugged. "Ten minutes?" he suggested. "At least? It's not long enough to go in and - "

" - no," Danny agreed, because that was obvious. "But it would be long enough to - "

Eyes widening, Rusty caught on. " - if we were already inside - "

" - breaking out - " Danny nodded.

" - doesn't take nearly as much time," Rusty finished.

Oh, they had a plan.

* * *

Sunday and they'd spent the morning in the arcade, the afternoon in the cinema watching James Bond for the second time that month, and the past hour hiding behind the small shelves at the very back of the library, behind a bunch of cookery books. The one directly in front of his face had a really tasty-looking chocolate cake on the cover. Huh. He was kind of hungry.

Danny followed what he was looking at and grinned at him, and it wasn't mockery, just amusement. He watched, maybe a little disapproving, as Danny reached into his pocket and then his eyes widened when Danny produced a Snickers bar and passed it over.

They were supposed to be being very, very quiet. Very, very careful.

Danny grinned. "There's no one anywhere near," he pointed out in a whisper. "And I don't like having to deal with you when you're hungry. Cranky's the least of it."

And that was the truth. He smiled, broke the Snickers bar in half, and passed half of it back to Danny, and the look in Danny's eyes when he took it . . .warm and caring and everything good in his life, and looking at _him_. Rusty was happy. Almost ridiculously so.

They sat, and other than eating their chocolate, they were as still and as quiet as statues, and gradually the people stopped moving around, and gradually the lights were turned off, and from the floor below they heard the doors open and close, and they were alone in the dark. They glanced at each other and gave it another fifteen minutes. Just in case. Be terrible to be caught because someone had forgotten something.

Eventually, they stood up, and, pretty much in unison, stretched and dug their flashlights out of the bag they'd brought.

"Spinning wheel?" Danny asked.

"Spinning wheel," he confirmed. "This way."

He'd seen it in the storeroom when he'd been helping one of the librarians carry boxes from the children's section. She'd seen him there three days in a row and had apparently formed the opinion that he was a shy boy who liked reading and would appreciate a little attention, and she'd asked him to help her with the displays. He'd gone along with it, she'd asked a couple of questions, and he hadn't gone back the next day. But he'd caught a glimpse of the inside of the storeroom. And there'd been all kinds of junk in there. They could steal it and no one would notice for at least a few days.

The door was locked and that didn't take long to deal with at all.

They stood looking down at the spinning wheel. "Huh," Danny said eventually. "That's what Mike's looking for?"

"Guess so," he said with a frown. "Though I suppose - "

" - yeah," Danny nodded. "Why?"

He shrugged and started taking the thing out of it's place amidst cardboard boxes and piles of newspaper.

"Plus," Danny added, "I don't even get how anyone could prick their - "

" - ow!" he complained, sticking his finger in his mouth, sucking away the dot of blood.

Danny sighed. "Never mind. Just let me know if you start feeling sleepy."

He glared at the spinning wheel. "What's the thing supposed to do, anyway?"

"Make wool," Danny said, in a voice that was somewhat less than certain.

"How?" he demanded.

Danny shrugged. "Sheep are involved," he suggested.

"So, what, you stick a sheep in one end and wool comes out the other?" he asked with a frown.

"Do you want to steal it or knit a jumper?" Danny's voice was mild.

He considered. "Does it do wedding dresses?"

Danny grinned and helped him haul the spinning wheel out of the storeroom and got it stuffed into the large holdall they'd brought with them. Had to figure that two boys carrying a bag through the streets late at night would attract marginally less attention than two boys carrying a spinning wheel. That sort of thing got noticed.

"So what do you think?" Danny asked.

He glanced up at the window. "Few more hours," he said decidedly. No good breaking out of the library while it was still daylight.

Danny nodded. "So," he said grimly.

"Homework," Rusty agreed.

* * *

Homework done by flashlight, in a huddle of beanbags, in a building that they were absolutely not allowed to be in, that it was probably _illegal_ for them to be in, was still remarkably dull. Danny drew a pattern of dancing stick figures along the margins of Rusty's English assignment and considered. "What do you think about trees?" he asked.

"You mean am I for or against?" Rusty asked, not looking up from the encyclopaedia he was reading. Danny wasn't asking. Rusty had already finished Danny's math problems. He was quicker at it; he'd spent a whole day staring at Danny's math textbook a couple of months back, when even the light and movement from the TV had left him sick and dizzy, when even talking had left him with a headache. Somehow, he'd learned and somehow it had stuck.

He shrugged. "Something like that. You're supposed to write a poem about them."

Rusty nodded. "Go trees," he suggested.

"Right." Danny stared down at the paper and thought some more.

There was silence for a while, other than the scratching of Danny's pencil, and the occasional turning of a page.

"How would you rhyme 'deciduous'?" he pondered eventually.

Rusty grinned. "I wouldn't."

"You think I should try something else?" He considered. "Maybe a limerick?"

"There was a young man from the woods - " Rusty began.

" - whose penchant was for painting nudes - " he continued immediately.

" - when hiding up trees - "

" - he charged extra fees - "

" - and the park ranger gave up the goods."

They looked at each other for a moment. "No?" he suggested.

"No," Rusty agreed, and stabbed at his book with a finger. "Ah! Got it! There's an elephant in it."

"What?" Danny blinked.

"Aida," Rusty explained. "We'd need to get an elephant."

"Ah," he nodded. "Makes a sword look - "

Rusty scowled. " - oh, positively _easy_ ,if only - "

" - we had the first idea," he agreed with a groan. Tomorrow's problem. Tonight was still about tonight. He glanced at his watch and up at the windows. "What do you think?"

Following his gaze, Rusty nodded tightly. "Yeah. Time."

Putting everything back where they'd found it, they walked to the front door. "Ready?" he asked, a little breathless.

"Uh huh." Rusty looked about as nervous as he felt. Oddly, this plan had looked a lot more sensible in the cold light of day than it did in the dark and the mysterious.

The moment he touched the lock, the alarm started screaming, and by the time the door slammed open, by the time they were running down the stairs, running as far and as fast as possible, running before anyone could see them, before anyone would come out of the surrounding buildings, figure out what was going on, by the time they were away and free and unstoppable, his heart was beating fast and wild.

Not fear. Not panic. Exhilaration. And he turned round and grinned at Rusty and Rusty was laughing, and this was fun, and this was happiness and this was what he wanted.

* * *

Monday lunchtime and the morning had passed in a haze of art and boredom. Danny couldn't help but think that there was a limit to the number of conch shells anyone could reasonably be expected to sketch.

He waited for Rusty at the bottom of the stairs with a certain amount of anxiety. There'd been an awkward moment that morning. Rusty had stayed over at his – which was always good – and maybe they'd stayed up talking a little too late last night because this morning they'd slept in a little longer than they should have. Which meant that they'd been in more of a hurry. Which meant that they'd been a little more careless than usual. Which meant that they'd walked into Dad on the stairs. Yeah. Awkward.

Dad had stared at them for a long moment, apparently surprised to see two boys where he thought there should only be one. And in the end he hadn't said anything beyond a polite 'good morning', but Danny was certain there was going to be some sort of discussion – lecture – about this later. Hopefully just from Dad. Hopefully he wouldn't get the school involved. Or Mom.

Most of the time, Dad was more understanding about things. About him and Rusty. Danny was pretty sure that he thought that this friendship was a rebellious phase that Danny would grow out of, if they just gave him time, if they refused to take it seriously. And sometimes he fantasized about sitting Dad down and calmly explaining exactly how he felt and what it all meant and the fact that nothing was ever going to change that. Trouble was, it was all too easy to imagine the look on Dad's face if he ever tried.

Still. They'd been caught doing something they weren't supposed to, and there were going to be consequences, and the important lesson to take away from this was not to get caught again.

Finally Rusty appeared at the top of the stairs, grinned his goodbyes to his laughing classmates, and strolled over to join Danny.

"There's no way the music department will let the drama club have a guitar," Rusty reported. "Apparently there was an incident with a sousaphone a decade ago and since then they've been having their own private war."

"What kind of incident?" he couldn't help but wonder.

Rusty shrugged. "All Mr Sharp would say is that no-one actually _died._ But Joseph Becker's nose was never quite the same."

They exchanged a long look, grinned to each other, and started walking down the corridor.

"Okay," Danny began after a moment. "So, the guitar - "

" - tonight," Rusty agreed, and it should be simple enough. "Still don't know about - "

" - the wedding dress?" Danny nodded. He'd been thinking about that. After all, Mike had told them that it didn't actually need to be worn by anyone. It just had to hang there. "Mom's is still at the back of her closet. We could easily borrow it for a couple of days. She'd never even know."

"Sounds good," Rusty agreed with a smile. He paused outside a classroom. "So. Test tubes?"

"Test tubes," Danny nodded and pushed the door open.

Lee was standing behind a desk, wearing thick goggles, doing something with a beaker, a tripod and a bunsen burner that Danny thought was probably fairly dangerous and, according to Rusty, was directly related to his plans for world domination through science. He whirled round at the sound of the door and almost set fire to his sleeve.

"Hi Lee," Danny smiled.

"Hey Lee," Rusty added.

Lee sighed. "Oh. You two. What do you want?"

"We were wondering if you could help us," Danny explained, taking a seat opposite Lee.

Rusty had wandered over to the back of the room and was investigating a large cage. ""You've got a whole lot of mice in here," he called out.

"They're for this afternoon," Lee explained and turned back to Danny. "With what?" he asked suspiciously.

"We're helping Mike with the play on Friday," Danny said. "He needs a load of smoking test tubes."

Lee frowned. "Take it you don't want anything that'll explode or poison the audience?"

"We're easy on that point, actually," Rusty called over his shoulder.

"Not this time," Danny said firmly, trying, and failing, to glare at him. "Is it possible?" he asked Lee.

"Possible," Lee said with a shrug, sounding less than enthusiastic.

And this was the difficult part. He'd been hoping that Lee would volunteer to help out of some sort of spirit of solidarity. Didn't look like that was going to happen. He smiled, as relaxed as he could possibly look. "Will you let us have something?"

Sighing heavily, Lee slumped down onto a chair and looked over at him. "What'll you do for me?"

That wasn't like Lee. Not at all. "What do you _want_ us to do?" he returned instantly.

Lee hesitated and then shook his head. "Nah. Never mind. Let's forget the whole thing. I can't help you."

Huh. That was actually kind of intriguing. Rusty looked round, obviously agreeing. "Come on," he entreated.

"What do you need?" Danny pressed.

"Well . .. " Lee paused. "You know that there's this Glee Club Summer Ball thing coming up?" he began.

Danny frowned. Well. Yes. There was, he supposed. "In about two months."

"I like to think ahead," Lee told him absently, looking over Danny's shoulder. "Don't get too attached, we're dissecting them after lunch."

There was a pause that lasted a couple of seconds too long, and Danny was just about to twist round, to check, to reassure, and then Rusty strolled back over and jumped up to sit on the bench just behind Danny. "Oh, well," he said casually. "So there's this dance. You going?"

"Yes," Lee nodded. "Or at least I was. I asked a girl. Ami. I asked Ami Sato."

"And she said no?" Danny guessed, sympathetically. Lee's crush was longstanding and pretty well known.

But surprisingly, Lee shook his head. "She said yes. Yesterday. Then she came and found me this morning and said that she couldn't and she ran off crying."

Oh. Danny pursed his lips. Seemed Lee had _problems._

"Huh," Rusty nodded slowly. "You want - "

" - to know why?" Danny finished.

Lee scowled. "I _want_ to go to the dance with her." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "No. No, I want to know if she's all right. I want to know if there's anything I can do to make it up to her."

He sounded miserable and sincere and it was difficult not to be sympathetic. "We'll see what we can do," he promised, and he could feel Rusty looking at him.

"Really?" Lee asked hopefully.

"We'll _talk_ to her," Rusty said firmly. "We're not promising anything."

"Even if you try . . . " Lee smiled at them for the first time that day. "Come by after school tonight and I'll give you the stuff that you need. It's easy enough to fix up, and I guess it's still being used for school purposes . . . "

They left Lee to return to his bunsen burner and his megalomania. "He should have a lightning storm," Danny commented. "And an ugly lab assistant."

Rusty grinned. "You volunteering for the job?"

"I'm not qualified," Danny said immediately. "Maybe _you_ should - "

" - maybe if you weren't so vain, you'd - "

" - vain?" Danny demanded, with mock outrage. "I'm - "

Rusty looked over at him. "Your hair's sticking out at the back," he said calmly.

With an effort he managed to stop his hand from doing any more than twitching. Rusty saw anyway and laughed. Danny sighed. "So we need to talk to Ami," he stated.

"Right," Rusty said simply. "You know - "

"Uh huh." He did. Probably, he should have kept his mouth shut. "There's a good chance we won't be able to do anything."

"No," Rusty agreed.

"I mean, this is difficult," he went on thoughtfully. "There's a good chance that it's really - "

" - impossible," Rusty chipped in, nodding wisely. "We could even make things worse."

They walked in silence for a couple of steps. Then Danny looked at Rusty. "So, you have a mouse up your sleeve right now, don't you?"

"Uh huh," Rusty's hand shot out of his sleeve and Danny saw a small mouse looking up at him contemplatively.

"Very nice," he said calmly and resisted the urge to bang his head off the wall.

Rusty was wearing the earnest expression that teachers always seemed to fall for. Why he thought it would work on Danny was a mystery. Really, it was just annoying . . .oh. That would be it. "Lee said they were all going to be killed, Danny. And Olaf's not done anything to deserve that."

"Olaf?" he asked, knowing he was going to regret it.

"Olaf the Brown," Rusty explained happily.

Danny looked thoughtfully at the black-and-white mouse. "Of course," he agreed. "You remember the part where I said you weren't to name anything anymore?"

Rusty sighed. "I'm not keeping him, Danny."

"You got - "

" - Brady. He's already got six mice. Also two guinea pigs, four cats, eighteen goldfish, a parakeet and a chinchilla. He won't mind taking in Olaf."

Danny blinked. "He starting his own zoo?"

"His own Ark," Rusty grinned.

"Oh." Danny considered this for a moment. "The parakeet and the chinchilla - " he began.

" - against nature?" Rusty asked.

"Slightly," he agreed. "You should talk to Ami."

Rusty paused. "Why me?" he asked.

He grimaced. "She'll assume I have an ulterior motive," he explained.

"We _do_ have an ulterior motive," Rusty pointed out.

True. "She'll think _I_ have a _different_ ulterior motive," he explained further and Rusty got it.

"I'll talk to her," he agreed and obviously he was already figuring out what to say.

Danny gave it a moment. "Rus'?" he asked at last, innocently.

"Yeah?" Rusty asked absently.

"I'd lose the mouse before you go talk to her."

* * *

After quietly asking around, Rusty found Ami sitting by herself on a bench in an unused cloakroom.

She looked up, clearly startled when he sat down beside her, and she had been crying and doing her best not to.

"Hi," he said with a soft smile.

"Hello," she answered, sniffing slightly. "I'm sorry, Rusty, but I'm not in the mood for company right now."

"Lee is worried about you," he said quietly, jumping straight to the point.

"He sent you?" she asked sharply.

Yes, pretty much, but saying so would be a bad idea. "Not exactly," he temporized.

Didn't seem to matter; she wasn't exactly listening. "Is he very angry with me?"

He paused. "More hurt," he said truthfully. "And confused. Not angry."

"I didn't mean to hurt him," she moaned. "I should never have said 'yes' in the first place."

"Why did you?" he asked, and that was really the important question here.

She bit her lip. "Because I really wanted to."

"You want to go to the ball with Lee?" he blinked.

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "More than anything."

"Then what's the problem?" Seemed straightforward to him.

For a moment he thought she was going to start crying, and he wondered what he'd do, beyond pat her arm and offer her a tissue. "Because I _can't_ " she gulped, getting herself under control.

"Is your mom saying you're not allowed?" he asked with a certain amount of sympathy. From what he'd seen, parents delighted in telling people what they could and couldn't do. His rules weren't so complicated.

She glared at him. "No! Mom would never say that!"

"Then what," he pressed gently, his voice low and his eyes sincere, and it seemed as though she wanted to talk and he was good at listening.

"Promise you won't tell Lee?" she asked. "Or spread it around the school?"

"I promise," he nodded and meant it.

"I don't have a dress," she admitted quickly.

He blinked. That was it? "Can't you get a new one?" he suggested, keeping the compassion in his voice with an effort.

Her lip was wobbling. "No. No, I . . . things have been difficult since Dad got sick. I can't ask Mom for money. And I don't get an allowance. So I'm not going to be able to buy one, and I can't go to the ball, and even if I could, I can't dance, and Lee's never going to ask me out _again."_ Her voice was trembling and filled with misery and despair.

Oh, that was _it._ He snapped. "That's completely ridiculous."

She stared at him. "I _can't_ ask Mom," she insisted wildly.

"Not what I meant," he said immediately. "You don't want to burden your parents, I get it. That part's fine, that part's admirable. But why does that mean _you_ can't have any money?"

She was still staring. "What?"

"When me and Danny need money, we go out and get some," he explained. "Otherwise we'd never have any either." If anyone was to ask Danny's parents they'd probably insist that Danny got a generous weekly allowance. And probably they didn't even realise that it had been a good year or so since either of them had actually remembered to _give_ Danny his allowance. And Danny was never going to go to them and ask for money. As for Rusty, well, he didn't particularly want to imagine what Dad would say ( _do_ ) if he walked up to him and asked for pocket money. No. They did their best with what they had and had as much fun as possible.

"How?" Ami asked, wide-eyed.

Oh, he wished she hadn't asked that. "Probably no way you want to try," he admitted with a grin. "We play to what we're good at. You should do the same."

"But I'm not good at anything that could get money," she protested.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and wondered why more people didn't try and fend for themselves. Okay. He could think about this for her. "You speak Japanese, don't you?" he began.

Surprised, she nodded. "Yes. Also Chinese, Spanish and Portugeses."

Okay. That was impressive. "Really?"

"Yes," she smiled slightly, obviously enjoying the look on his face. "My parents are interpreters. They used to work for the Foreign Service. They met at the American Embassy in London."

He frowned. "They speak English in London."

"Yes?" she looked at him uncertainly.

"Then why . . . " He shook his head. "Never mind. My point was that probably people would be willing to pay money for language lessons. If you put adverts up. People like learning exotic things. Two months, you could make enough easy."

She was staring at him again. "You really think so?"

"Yeah." Seemed obvious to him.

"But who would pay for that kind of lesson?" she wondered.

"Well, I would," he admitted after a moment's thought. Being able to speak another language seemed like it would be useful. Or at least interesting. He'd settle for either.

She nodded thoughtfully and it seemed as though she was thinking about it. Seemed as though she was at least admitting she had options. "I still don't know how to dance," she said slowly. This time he did roll his eyes. " _But_ ," she went on determinedly, glancing at him. "I suppose I could . . find someone to teach me?"

"That's right," he smiled. "Danny can, if you don't know anyone else." Not like Danny would object. Danny liked girls. And Ami was pretty.

She smiled at him suddenly. "Thank you, Rusty," she said sincerely. "You've given me a lot to think about."

He nodded. "Good," he said and meant it. "Is there anything I can tell Lee?"

She stood up, looking resolute. " _I_ will tell him that I will go to the Ball with him," she announced.

"Fantastic," he grinned. More than pretty.

She looked at him for a long moment, before she left, as if she was trying to puzzle something out. In the end, she shook her head absently and walked away.

He managed to catch up with Danny just before the bell rang for the end of lunch and quickly told him what had happened.

Danny nodded slowly. "Now _that's_ Cinderella."

Rusty frowned with feigned suspicion. "Wait, who's the necrophiliac?"

* * *

Lee had been almost frighteningly happy when they'd stopped by after the after-school science club. Apparently Ami had asked him to the ball last class of the day, and he was consequently dancing on air and he hadn't stopped thanking them. Which was as it should be. Rusty's best efforts had been impossible.

At any rate Lee had proudly handed them a set of test tubes, a couple of vials of powder and a careful explanation of exactly what would happen when they were mixed together. Personally Danny was wondering if it could work on a larger scale. He could see uses for their own, personal smoke-maker. Not least that it would look incredibly cool. In the meantime they were getting somewhere and they were having fun and they stowed the test tubes in the abandoned house with the spinning wheel, raided his parents' fridge for leftovers and headed back to the school in search of fame and fortune, or a guitar at the very least.

And that was where they hit a snag. A snag in the form of Hutchins the janitor, camped out in the middle of the music corridor, listening to the radio.

"What's he doing?" he hissed in Rusty' ear as they stood at the top of the stairwell, peering round the edge of the doorway at Hutchin's back.

Rusty shrugged and was saved from having to answer by an announcement on the radio.

" _And we now take you to a very special program, Ol' Blue Eyes himself, Frank Sinatra will be singing live from The Desert Inn shortly, and first of all we're going to take you round a few of the more colourful nightspots in Las Vegas – America's Playground._ "

Hutchins rubbed his hands together and Danny had never seen him smile like that before.

"We've got a problem," he told Rusty in a whisper.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll do 'My Way'," Rusty reassured him.

"That's not actually the problem I was thinking of," he sighed, and frowned. "You think so though?"

Rusty grinned. "Bound to."

Huh. They should probably try to get home in time to hear that.

"We could just come back another night," Rusty offered.

They could. Trouble was they had no ideas with the sword, no way of knowing how much it was going to take. "We need to get this over with," he decided.

Rusty nodded. "Distraction then."

He considered. "If he was doing his job - "

" - he could even take his radio - "

" - just to get him - "

" - someplace else."

They looked up the stairwell, at the girls restroom on the landing at the top.

"Water flows downhill," Danny said thoughtfully.

A quick exchange of looks and they were tiptoeing up the stairs at a run and Danny started blocking up the sinks.

"No," Rusty objected.

Surprised, he turned round, and saw Rusty was crouching down and examining the pipes under the sinks. "What?"

"It'll take too long your way," Rusty explained and with a slightly uncertain expression which made Danny nervous, he reached out, unscrewed something, and pulled firmly on a pipe.

They _just_ managed to dodge the ensuing jet of water.

Danny watched as Rusty fixed – broke – the other two sinks, and by the time they darted back down the stairs and hid on the bottom landing, the water was already pooling round their feet.

They stood and watched the water make it's gradual way down the stairs. It was a very long twenty minutes.

"How much longer do you reckon," he asked presently.

Rusty shrugged. "Five minutes? Maybe?"

He nodded and was about to answer when they heard a shout from the corridor.

"Jesus _Christ."_ Hutchins sounded very, very unhappy.

He couldn't help it; he risked a glance out the doorway.

Oh.

Oh, they were in _trouble._

Water was pouring from the ceiling, bits of plaster and pieces of ceiling tile littered the floor, and Hutchins was standing in the middle of it all looking stunned.

"We broke the school!" he hissed and Rusty grabbed his arm and they were further down the stairs just in time to see Hutchins come running into the stairwell and up towards the restroom.

"It'll take a while for him to get the water off," Rusty whispered.

Danny nodded. They might as well get what they'd come here for.

Picking their way through the flood corridor, Rusty got the store cupboard door open faster than Danny had ever seen him manage before. They grabbed a battered guitar from the very back, shut the cupboard up again and hightailed it out of the school, closer to panic than they'd been for a while.

They stopped running a couple of streets later and looked at each other. Oh, they'd messed up. They'd messed up and he couldn't stop feeling guilty.

Rusty nodded, agreeing. "Nothing we can do about it though."

"Let's not do it again," Danny suggested.

"Yeah," Rusty sighed. "Sinatra?"

They walked to Danny's house in silence.

* * *

Next day it seemed the sole conversation was the flood. How some vandals had destroyed a restroom. How many days, weeks, months the music department was likely to be closed for. How many hundreds, thousands, millions of dollars it was all going to take to fix. What they were going to do to the culprits when they caught them. Even allowing for a fantastic degree of exaggeration, Rusty figured that they'd caused a hell of a lot more trouble than they'd ever intended. And he felt a little bit guilty and a lot annoyed. It had been an accident, and if they were going to engage in wholesale destruction, he wanted there to be a better plan and a better reason.

He spent the morning trying to figure exactly what to say if he was called out of class, wondering all the time if Danny had already been blamed, and it was so difficult to suppress the need to run and check, make sure Danny was still fine.

By lunchtime however, nothing had happened, and Danny breathed a sigh of relief on seeing him, and Rusty could see he'd spent the morning with the same thoughts and worries. But there was nothing. They were both fine.

"Not like anyone could know," he pointed out quietly and Danny nodded his agreement.

"Nah. We're good."

They sat at their normal table and Rusty picked apart a cheese sandwich with absent-minded determination.

"What?" Danny asked after a moment.

"Sword," he sighed. He had no ideas.

Danny nodded. "We're - "

" - nowhere," he finished glumly.

They smiled casually at Doug Fletcher and Ritchie Sinclair who sat down next to them.

"Where do you even get a sword," he asked frustrated.

Danny shrugged. "Armoury?"

"Of course." That was helpful.

"You're looking for a sword?" Doug spoke up. "I know someone who's got one."

"Who?" Danny asked, and they both looked at Doug intently.

Doug blinked. "He showed it to me a few weeks ago."

"Who?" Rusty repeated patiently.

"Think his dad brought it back from Toledo or something," Doug explained further.

" _Who_?" they demanded in unison.

With a sigh, Doug stared past them. "You're not going to like it," he warned.

Rusty craned round to follow his gaze. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he groaned.

On the other side of the cafeteria, Norris Carroll ate his burger obliviously.

* * *

Danny waited patiently in the corridor after his last class of the day, until Norris had finished teasing his friends. Or harassing his minions. However you wanted to look at it.

They'd agreed that it would be best if only one of them talked to Norris. Both of them and he'd be on the defensive, would assume they were up to something, trying to trick him or strong-arm him. Just Rusty and Norris would be the one trying to bully, trying to intimidate, and just because Danny knew that he'd never succeed didn't make that acceptable in any way. No, it needed to be him. Him and he could be distantly friendly and respectful. Him, and he could treat Norris like an equal and expect the same in return. And that was the trick. Because he was going to try simply _asking._

Eventually, Norris watched the other boys head down the stairs and turned to glare at Danny. "What do you want, Ocean?"

"Just looking for a favour, Norris," he said easily.

"A favour." Norris laughed incredulously. "A favour?"

This was not going like he'd hoped. "A trade, perhaps," he clarified. Not like they weren't prepared to give Norris something in return. Money, maybe. Money they could do easy.

"You think I'm going to do you a favour? You think I'm going to give you anything?" Norris was actually snarling. "You think I want anything from you? I hate you, remember? I hate you and you hate me, and that's exactly the way it should be."

Danny blinked slowly. "You think I hate you?" He didn't. He didn't like the other boy; not in the slightest, and he still remembered the look on Norris' face six months back when he'd sat in math class while Norris whispered next to him _"Hey, Ocean. Just come from seeing your little friend. Cries a lot, doesn't he? I only hit him a few times."_ And if anything he'd said had been true, then things would have been different. But Norris had been lying, and Norris was small and Norris was _nothing_ to him. Hate Norris? Hate Norris like he hated . . . he was never going to wake up in the middle of the night overwhelmed with dreams of anger and fear because of _Norris_. He was never going to have to stand in front of Norris and bite his tongue, literally bite his tongue until he tasted blood, because if he didn't then the truth might scream its way out. He was never going to find himself lying in the dark, listening to Rusty's uneven, frightened breathing, fantasising about waiting for _Norris_ in a dark alley. Hate Norris? Not even close. He knew what hatred tasted like.

Norris was staring at him, his face twisted. "I know you do," he growled and he knew nothing.

It was a good thing he hadn't actually said what they wanted.

They were going to need to do this the fun way.

They'd wanted to give him a chance.

* * *

Rusty leaned on the wall outside the school, lit a cigarette and wondered how Danny was getting on. He didn't honestly think this was going to work. Didn't think that there was the slightest possibility of Norris going along with them. And he knew that Danny was only slightly more optimistic, but he knew why they'd had to try. This wasn't them exacting revenge or taking something of no consequence. From what Doug had said, this sword mattered to Norris. And even if they didn't like him much, and even if they were going to give it back in a couple of days, no harm no foul, it was still important for them to _try_.

He looked up in time to see Annette Darcey walking down the hill towards him and then she vanished behind the building. Be a couple of moments before she reappeared. He couldn't help but wonder what she was doing here. And if he should try and persuade her to stick around until Danny turned up. Difficult to judge. Shaking his head, he went back to considering what their next step should be when Norris inevitably turned them down. They had the beginnings of a plan . . . actually, no. That was the problem. They had the middle and the end of a plan. The beginning was what was giving them problems.

Annette stepped round the corner and smiled at him awkwardly. "Hi," she muttered, before reaching into her purse and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

He smiled absently back and wondered if it would work if they annoyed Norris enough. If they could anger him into wanting to be competitive, wanting to prove he was better than them.

"Got a light?" Annette asked, after a moment searching through her bag, neatly interrupting his train of thought.

Sighing to himself, he leaned forwards and lit her cigarette for her. "Here."

"Thanks," she smiled, inhaling and ending with something that sounded suspiciously like a cough.

"I'm waiting for my mom," Annette announced. "She's in seeing Celeste's teacher. Since Aunty Marissa can't leave the house." She leaned in close to him. "She's got a new nose, but don't tell anyone."

He blinked. "What happened to the old one?" he asked.

Annette shrugged. "She didn't like it."

Nodding, he decided that probably making Norris mad at them was a bad idea. Far, far too many ways it could go wrong.

Annette was looking at him sideways. "You're Danny's friend, aren't you. Danny Ocean, I mean."

Huh. Somehow he thought that maybe he should be giving this conversation more of his attention. "You looking for him?"

"No," she shook her head. "No. Just wondering."

"Yes," he told her evenly. "Me and Danny are friends."

She nodded slowly and she was still looking at him, as if she was trying to figure him out. "My mom says you're a bad influence on Danny. She says that you cling to Danny and bring him down to your level and it's disgusting. She says that if you were hanging around her child she'd soon teach you your place."

He thought about Juliet Darcey and wasn't surprised. And Annette wasn't trying to hurt him, wasn't even thinking that her words could hurt him. Which they couldn't. There was nothing in her voice but puzzled curiosity. "Really," he said, as if the subject bored him.

"Yes," she said, and her eyes were raking over his clothes and he wasn't embarrassed. "She says you're – poor."

He smiled sardonically. "I bet that's not the word she used."

She flushed slightly. "Trailer trash," she said quietly.

"I live in an apartment," he told her.

There was a pause. "My mom's wrong sometimes," Annette blurted out. "She's . . . she can be a little bit of a snob."

He didn't say anything. Didn't react. Certainly didn't agree; that was the last thing that she wanted.

"It's not like she's a bad person," Annette went on after a second. "It's just that she assumes she's always right. And that's annoying. I don't think you're bad like she says. I mean, you're just a kid. You can't be a . . . what she says."

He nodded and didn't ask. Not like he was crying out to be insulted.

"But I don't understand," she said slowly, her voice full of a different curiosity. "Why is Danny friends with you?"

"Because he likes me," he said simply. He was never going to explain – not to her and not to anyone – about miracles and magic.

She frowned. "But you're just a little kid, and Danny is . . . .Danny is Danny. I mean, he could be hanging out with anyone. Celeste says everyone in school thinks he's cool and amazing."

"He likes me," he repeated and he hated the edge to his voice.

She still looked unconvinced and she opened her mouth, obviously about to say something else, when suddenly she paled and stared over his head, up the hill. "Mom!" she gasped.

He turned in time to see Juliet Darcey disappear behind the building.

"She saw me!" Annette moaned. "She saw me smoking. She's going to _kill_ me."

She looked frightened and miserable and it was obvious she'd never dreamed of consequences. He sighed and grabbed the cigarette out of her hand and threw it on the ground. "Stamp on it, he ordered tersely.

Looking bewildered, she did as she was told. He threw his own cigarette over the wall, pulled her purse out of her hand, found her pack of cigarettes and stuffed them into his pocket.

Finding a pack of mints, he thrust them into her hand. "Take one," he commanded and gave her her purse back. "And start yelling at me."

"What?" she asked, her voice high and panicked.

"Which of us is your mom more likely to believe the worst of?" he demanded. "You caught me smoking, made me stop and are giving me a lecture on it. Your mom can't possibly have seen enough to be certain at that distance. You know she hates me. We can make this work."

She bit her lip and nodded. "It's a disgusting habit," she said loudly and he had to say her impression of her mother was pretty good. "You should be ashamed of yourself. I really don't know why your parents don't - "

" - Annette," Juliet Darcey cut in, stepping round the corner in time to see her daughter towering over Rusty, her finger waving in his face. She blinked. "What's going on here?" she asked, in a slightly less querulous tone of voice.

Annette looked round at her mother. "I caught this boy _smoking,_ mother," she said. "I was just explaining that it's wrong. Just like you always told me. He actually offered _me_ one."

He watched as Juliet Darcey's narrowed eyes slipped between them, not looking for truth so much as looking for what she wanted to believe. Her daughter hadn't done anything wrong. Rusty was foul and worthless.

He kept his head down and looked up at her sullenly as she stepped towards him, looked down at him like he was some repulsive insect. "You disgusting boy," she hissed, fury in her voice, and he wasn't going to run - he was not going to run - because there was nothing to be afraid of. "You insignificant little worm. How dare you? How dare you even talk to my daughter, let alone try to corrupt her the way you've corrupted Daniel. Do you think no one sees what you're doing? Fawning over him. Bringing him down to your paltry, sordid level. If I was Barbara, I'd soon send you packing."

"I'm sorry," he said meek and angry his eyes fixed on her shoes.

That just seemed to make her even angrier, and she took a step impossibly closer, and the trembling started deep inside, and still, he was almost certain that she wasn't actually going to hit him. And if she did, he'd never let her see that it hurt. "That act doesn't fool me in the slightest! I know what you are. I see you strutting around the neighbourhood, showing off your bruises. How many fights have you been in, this month alone? You think violence solves all your problems, don't you? Oh, Barbara's told me all about you. Your mother is a drunken prostitute and your father is a worthless thug and that's all you have to look forward to. You'll never be more than them."

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please. No.

She stepped forwards, roughly grabbed his chin, angrily wrenched his head up to face her, and he would never let her see that it hurt, even if that's what she wanted. "You are worthless. And you disgust me. And if I ever see you talking to my daughter again, I'll make you wish you'd never been born." She let go of his face and he stumbled and had to take a step backwards to stop himself from falling. "Don't think that Barbara isn't going to hear about this," she hissed. "I'm sure she'll be interested in knowing just what the _scum_ that she lets roam around her house and our neighbourhood has been doing _this_ time."

"I'm sorry," he said again and his voice was polite and respectful and the anger and defiance was nowhere. He had no doubt she'd tell Danny's mom. He had no doubt she'd take great pleasure in telling Danny's mom. But they could deal with that. They'd dealt with that before and they'd deal with it again, and Danny _liked_ him.

She gave a contemptuous sniff and turned on her heel, walking away. "Come on, Annette."

Annette, face pale, eyes wide and horrified, paused for a few seconds, watching until her mother was out of sight, vanished behind the building. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He smiled at her. "It's okay," he promised and she ran after her mother.

Sighing he leaned back against the wall. Okay. Norris Carroll. That's what he had to think about. There had to be a way to make this work, and it would be nice if he already had the whole plan ready to lay out as soon as Danny came back and told him that Norris had turned them down.

Distracted, he didn't even realise that Annette had come back until she darted up to him, until her mouth was on his, until they were _kissing._

Huh.

* * *

Rusty was being quiet and Danny didn't like it. It was the wrong kind of silence. Not the worst kind of silence, not the silence that echoed back to Quiet Days and fear and hiding, but it wasn't the comfortable, easy silence he expected either.

He'd found Rusty waiting outside the gate, exactly where they'd agreed, and he'd told Rusty that Norris wasn't going to help, and Rusty had just nodded and said nothing.

They'd walked round to Mabel's, barely exchanging more than a few words, and Danny had nodded to Mabel significantly when they ordered food, and he knew that she'd leave them alone.

He talked. Kept the conversation light. Affected not to notice that Rusty was distracted. "So we've got the test tubes, the spinning wheel, the wedding dress and the guitar. And Norris has the sword."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, his fingers at his mouth, his mind a thousand miles away.

Danny nodded thoughtfully. "And the elephant. I mean, where do we even start looking?"

"Well, the zo . . . " Rusty started and then frowned. "I'm paying attention."

"Uh huh," Danny nodded and took a sip of coffee and worried. "Gonna tell me what's going on?"

Rusty turned and stared out the window. "I kissed a girl," he said eventually.

Danny blinked. "Oh," he said. He didn't quite know what to say. Wasn't like the subject had ever come up before, precisely. It wasn't just that Rusty hadn't ever kissed a girl before, he hadn't even expressed an _interest_ in kissing girls. Regarded Danny's interests and pursuits with tolerant amusement.

"Well," Rusty clarified. "She kissed me."

Danny felt himself start to smile. "She - "

" - yeah. Think she felt sorry for me or something. Her mom just got through yelling at me."

He felt his smile freeze and he caught the flicker of amusement as Rusty watched him try to sort out the joint and conflicting needs-to-know. Okay. He sighed and he was always going to chase down the thing that was bothering Rusty most. "Did she - "

" - yeah," Rusty cut in quickly.

"Wasn't pity then," he said firmly, shaking his head. "Girls don't kiss like that because they feel sorry for you."

"Oh," Rusty's voice was quiet and reflective.

"Did you like it?" Danny asked curiously.

There was a long moment of consideration. "Yes," Rusty decided eventually.

"Oh, good." Danny smiled. "Nice to know that the people who've been kissing since the dawn of time have got your support."

He enjoyed the sight of the grin. "There are people who have been kissing since the beginning of time? Aren't they getting tired yet?"

"So, this girl," Danny began brightly. "Do we know her?" His eyes narrowed at the sudden spasm of reluctance. "I mean, obviously one of us knows her slightly better than the other, but - "

" - no," Rusty interrupted.

Danny paused. "No what?"

"No, one of us doesn't know her better than the other," Rusty clarified, and he was looking out the window again, looking anywhere but at Danny, in fact. "Annette Darcey."

Oh. Annette Darcey. Rusty had kissed Annette Darcey. Or, rather, the other way round. And suddenly a lot of things made sense. Because eighteen months or so ago, at a piano recital that had brought him to new and previously uncharted levels of boredom, he had got talking to Annette in the cloakroom. And she'd shyly admitted that she'd never kissed a boy before, and he'd never kissed a girl, and hidden behind a pile of coats, they'd explored a whole new world and it had been fantastic.

Annette had been his first kiss. And now she'd been Rusty's first kiss. What, was she starting a collection?

Rusty still wasn't looking at him and that was unbearable. "Rus'," he said quietly, and the look that was turned on him was frighteningly apprehensive. He took a deep breath. "You think I'd be mad at you for this?" The pain and disbelief cut into him like a knife.

Rusty blinked. "I kissed - "

" - you did," he agreed.

"It's - "Rusty tried to explain.

" - it is," he nodded. And it was. "Don't think we should make a _habit_ of it. But it's okay."

"Yeah?" Rusty asked hopefully.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

Rusty sighed. "Girls are - "

" - sure," he nodded with an easy smile.

"But they can also be - "

" - that's right."

Rusty sighed harder and Danny got the impression that he wasn't exactly in a hurry to go out and start kissing girls for fun.

He leaned forwards and the next time he spoke his voice was bright with anger. "So. Juliet Darcey?"

* * *

They'd spent the remains of the day in laziness, just enjoying themselves, being together and doing nothing. Once he'd managed to talk Danny a little way past his immediate anger and rage and helpless need to do something, that is. Once he'd managed to persuade Danny that there was nothing they could, should, do. That revenge wasn't an option. Once he'd got through trying to persuade Danny that it wasn't so very bad and that words didn't matter. Once he himself had finished leaning against Danny's shoulder and taking comfort in the simple truth that Danny liked him. Once they were done with all that, relaxation had been the object, and only a couple of times had their thoughts even turned to just how they were going to get Norris Carroll's sword.

It wasn't until lunchtime the next day, when they were sitting in the cafeteria, having just given Mike a progress report, that they moved on to the question of exactly how to persuade Norris that playing poker with them was the best idea he'd ever had.

"It shouldn't be us," Danny said suddenly.

Rusty looked at him and waited.

"What does Norris want?" Danny went on.

"Not to look stupid," Rusty answered promptly. "Which is - "

" - never going to happen," Danny agreed. "But he wants to be the big man. He wants to be popular."

He grinned with dawning understanding. "So if he thought - "

" - poker game - " Danny nodded.

" - with the cool kids - "

" - oh, that's - "

" - completely," he agreed and he leaned back in his chair with a smile.

Mike coughed politely. "So we can get the sword?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Danny nodded. "No problem."

"A few problems," Rusty pointed out. "But we'll get there."

"Soon as we figure out who the cool kids are," Danny smiled.

John leaned forwards. "Other than you two, you mean?"

Rusty laughed. Danny shook his head. "Seriously, what do you think?"

"Football team?" Rusty suggested, glancing to the other side of the canteen.

Danny nodded slowly. "Could work."

Rusty sighed. "They're going to - "

" - bound to," Danny agreed with a grimace.

They stood up and started to walk away and Mike sighed behind them. "Still can't believe that your mom doesn't mind us throwing paint on her wedding dress."

They froze and looked at each other for a long moment. Then they turned round very, very slowly. "What?" Danny asked carefully.

"You know. At the end with the . . . " Mike seemed to read something in their expressions. "I told you about that, right?"

"No," Rusty said slowly. "No, you didn't."

Danny grimaced. "We can't - "

" - we can't," Rusty agreed immediately. He sighed and looked at Mike. "We'll get back to you," he said and they walked off.

* * *

As they'd thought, the football team wanted something. The moment they walked up to The Hulk and Jake Price and said they needed a favour, the two footballers looked at each other and frowned. "What are you going to do for us?" The Hulk demanded.

Rusty was aware of Danny biting back a groan, and he himself had to hide the smile. Seemed no one was willing to help a friend just for the hell of it. "What do you want?" he asked.

"We got this game with Hill Street coming up," Jake told them. "We heard they got some new plays. New players. We want to know what they've got and what we need to worry about."

"You can find out for us," The Hulk said, clearly needing it spelled out.

"They're playing tonight," Jake added.

"You can go watch them," The Hulk explained carefully.

He glanced sideways at Danny. They could. They would. "We will," they said in unison.

* * *

They'd skipped the last hour of the day and caught a train across town to Hill Street in time for football practice. Sneaking into the dressing rooms and getting a look at the flip-charts and the diagrams was easy enough. And Rusty would be able to redraw them later, no problem.

Now, hiding under the bleachers, Danny watched the Hill Street team run round and round after the ball and took notes.

"Don't think our team has a hope," Rusty commented after ten minutes.

Danny looked at them thoughtfully. "Well, this lot are faster. And stronger. And bigger. And they're dropping the ball less often."

"Yeah," Rusty nodded. "But I suppose our lot have more heart."

"And they're cheating," Danny added. "That's got to count for something."

"They take it seriously," Rusty commented thoughtfully.

Danny looked away from the sight of the field for a moment. "What?"

"Well, Mike wanting us to get all this stuff in the first place. Jake and The Hulk wanting us to get info on the opposing team. Just wonder what it's like to take something that seriously."

He paused and considered. "Are you suggesting that we should get a hobby?"

Rusty shrugged. "Lot of people seem to find something to care about. Football or plays or whatever."

"Not interested in anything like that," Danny pointed out. "And it's not like we'd have time." Just living took up enough time.

"Yeah," Rusty smiled. "You want to just keep on as we are?"

"Why not?" Danny said lightly. For as long as possible. Forever, if he had his way.

* * *

Teaching the football team to play poker took about three hours. Three very long hours. Coaching Jake on what to say to rope Norris into inviting them round the next evening took another half hour. Explaining to The Hulk why he couldn't be the one to talk to Norris took a good twenty minutes. Explaining the plan _generally_ took an hour.

The Hulk ended up frowning at them. "So I get to win, right?"

"Right," Danny agreed with a smile.

"But you get the sword," The Hulk went on, the frown deepening.

"Uh huh," Rusty nodded calmly. That was the point.

There was a pause as The Hulk put his thoughts in order. "So why don't you just win?" he asked at last. "If you're fixing it anyway?"

Danny smiled a little more. "Because if _we_ win, he'll kill us. If _you_ win, he won't dare."

The Hulk's eyebrows knitted together threateningly. "That's not right," he said heavily. "He shouldn't try and hurt you. Just cos you win something off him, fair and square."

"But it's not fair and square, David," Jake said patiently. "They're going to be cheating."

The Hulk had taken a deep breath and Rusty had cut in hastily before the argument got anywhere and got them focussed again on exactly how to recognise a straight.

* * *

It was about half ten when they got back to Danny's house and stood outside. Two cars in the driveway. All the lights were on. Everything was very quiet.

"Too quiet," Danny said softly.

He nodded. There was a definite feeling of anticipation. "Think they're waiting for you?" he asked quietly

"Yeah," Danny nodded tersely. "Rus', you can't - "

" - I know," he cut in, and Danny looked miserable. "I'll be fine," he promised. "It's you - "

" - I'll keep my head down," Danny promised him back.

They looked at each other for a long moment, as if they were trying to engrave every last detail into their memories, and walked away from each other.

Danny wished he didn't have to walk into the living room. Wished he could just run upstairs and pretend that he didn't know his parents were lying in wait. Wished that he didn't know what they wanted to talk to him about. Wished, more than anything, wished, that Rusty was safe.

With a deep breath, he pushed the door open. His parents were sitting at opposite sides of the room, and they didn't look happy to see him.

"Come in, Daniel, and close the door behind you," Mom said stiffly.

He obeyed. Stood against the door. Waited.

"Your father tells me that Robert stayed the night on Monday," Mom began. "Is this true?"

He didn't have many options. "Yes," he admitted simply.

Her face twisted. "Daniel, we've talked about this before. You're not allowed to have friends over without asking permission first."

"And I'm not allowed to have Rusty over at all, right?" he asked with a smile.

Dad sighed. "Danny, no one wants to take away your friend," he said, carefully not looking at Danny's Mom. "But it's not acceptable for Rusty to spend all his time over here. Don't you think his father might worry?"

Danny stared and Dad had the grace to look away.

"Do not start that again, Daniel," Mom snapped. "You've been thoughtless, inconsiderate and rude. The pair of you. I do _not_ want that boy hanging around here. People are talking, Daniel. And Juliet Darcey says he tried to force her daughter to smoke."

"More likely the other way round," Danny said with a short laugh. "Annette Darcey smokes like a chimney." He watched Mom's eyes light up at the gossip and told himself that he wasn't actually getting Annette into trouble. After all, he knew that Juliet Darcey wouldn't believe it from him. Or from Mom.

"Be that as it may," she said slowly and awfully. "Robert is a bad influence and I will not have the neighbours thinking that I can't control you."

"A bad influence?" he echoed involuntarily, his mouth tight, his body tense with anger.

"He is _beneath_ you, Daniel. You need to cultivate other interests and more appropriate companions - "

" - he's my friend," Danny interrupted shortly.

Dad cleared his throat. "As I said, Danny. No one is trying to take your friend away from you. Though I agree with your mother; it would be good idea for you to expand your circle of friends."

Mom glared at Dad. "Oh, you agree with me, do you?"

"Not now," Dad snapped and Danny stared at the floor for a few moments as they argued like they'd forgotten he was there.

Eventually they turned back to look at him, and Mom's face was still alight with anger. "You will not bring Robert around here anymore," she snapped. "I don't even want you talking to him, do you understand? You're bad enough on your own. You need to learn discipline, young man. You need to learn to respect your elders and betters. You need to learn to be grateful and obedient and maybe then you'll stop being such a source of humiliation and disappointment to the people that love you."

It didn't hurt. Of course it didn't hurt. Why would it hurt? He glanced sideways, but Dad's mouth was firmly closed, and he didn't look like he was in any hurry to disagree with Mom. Didn't look like defending Danny was high up his list of priorities.

"You've been running wild all this week, Daniel," Mom went on. "Coming in late, not coming home straight after school. People have _noticed_. People are talking. And I will not have it."

"Really, Danny, it's not on," Dad said, stern and infinitely more gentle. "What do you have to say for yourself."

He kept his head down. "We - _I've_ – been helping out with the school play all week."

There was a startled silence. "Really?" Mom asked suspiciously.

"Yeah," he said, looking up and looking surprised, as if it were obviously true.

"What are you doing?" Dad asked with a slight smile.

Danny shrugged. "Backstage stuff. Producing, really. But it's going really well." He smiled enthusiastically. "It's going to be fantastic."

Dad looked strangely happy. "Well, I'm glad to hear you've been doing something productive, Danny. Well done."

"You should have told us before, Daniel," Mom said, her lips pursed. "I could have had something to tell the neighbours."

"When is this play?" Dad asked.

"Friday night," Danny told him with a frown.

"Oh," Dad said thoughtfully. "I should be able to come and see it."

Danny blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, of course." Dad sounded surprised. "Since it's important to you."

"You don't have to work late or anything?" Danny asked hesitantly.

"No," Dad smiled reassuringly but he looked a little sad. "I'll be there. I promise."

"I'll be there too," Mom cut in, glaring at Dad.

Dad smiled unpleasantly at her. "Are you sure you can spare time out of your busy schedule? I'm sure Danny would hate to disrupt your social life."

"I don't have any plans for Friday," Mom snapped, rounding on him. "Not that it's any of your business."

Danny cleared his throat. "I'm just going upstairs," he said quietly. He didn't think they heard him. At any rate they didn't pay any attention. Or they didn't care.

He crept out of the room, and went upstairs as quietly as possible. The yelling erupted behind him. He curled up in bed, lonely and hating it, and wished he was with Rusty.

* * *

The apartment was cold and dark when he got in, much to his relief. No sign of Dad, and that could only be a good thing.

Hitting the light-switch, he discovered that the electricity had been cut off again. He sighed. Not much point in staying up in the dark. He took a bag of cookies from the cupboard and went to bed.

He was woken up a couple of hours later by the front door opening and the sound of loud, angry voices spilling into the apartment.

Dad was home. Dad was home and he'd brought friends.

There was the sound of glass breaking. The sound of drunken laughter. The sound of something – someone – crashing against his bedroom wall.

He bit his lip as hard as he could. He couldn't make a sound. He must not make a sound. Mustn't draw attention to himself, mustn't let them know he was here, mustn't let them know he existed, or it would . . . it would be bad. It would be bad and painful and awful and he wasn't going to go through it again.

Getting out of bed as quietly as possible, trying to pretend to himself that he wasn't shaking, he started to push his bed up against the door. Some kind of barricade. That's what he needed. There was another crash, this time against his door, and he flinched and started trembling that bit harder.

Finally, he got the bed in place. It wasn't enough. Not really. Dad, or his friends would be able to push that aside easy, if they wanted to. If they tried. He looked round the room and quickly snatched up a couple of cardboard boxes of clothes and books, and dumped them on top of the mattress. It might help. Might do. Might just give him enough time, while they tried to get through the door, to scramble out of the window and escape. He could only hope.

Pulling the blanket off the bed, he went and curled up under the window, lonely and hating it. He wished he was with Danny.

* * *

When he got to the Crossroads Diner the next morning, Rusty was already there, sitting at a table in the back, his head down on the table, on his outstretched arms, an untouched milkshake in front of him.

Danny ordered a coffee and settled down in the seat opposite. This place wasn't nearly as nice as Mabel's. The food wasn't so good. The company wasn't as friendly. But no one knew them here and no one cared, and though they'd never tried it, they were pretty sure that Mabel would have something to say if they showed up when they were supposed to be in school. And they weren't going to be in school today. Because they needed to get enough money to finance the football team's attempts to play poker, and they needed to find a wedding dress, and none of that could be accomplished by sitting in history class.

Rusty acknowledged him without actually raising his head, and Danny sighed and surreptitiously looked him over. He couldn't see any injuries and he gave up on subtlety and looked openly. He still couldn't see anything.

After a moment, Rusty sat up and smiled. "Rough night?" he asked lightly, taking a sip of milkshake.

Danny shrugged and wished he'd asked first. "Just loud," he said. "You?"

"Same." Rusty said, stretching as if it hurt. "They - "

" - nothing new," Danny told him. "Just the usual. Nothing I haven't heard before. Nothing we haven't dealt with before."

Rusty nodded slowly. "We lying low for a bit?"

"They don't want to _see_ you," Danny agreed.

"They don't want _you_ to see me," Rusty corrected astutely.

Danny shrugged. "Well, that's the way it goes sometimes. They're out of luck." He wasn't going to give up Rusty. Not for his parents. Not for anything.

Rusty smiled at him and put his head back down on his arms.

"Just the usual?" Danny asked after a moment.

"What's usual?" Rusty answered vacantly.

He nodded resignedly and sipped at his coffee.

* * *

Four o'clock and they were in Mabel's, having spent the past seven hours travelling to places in the city they'd never been to before and stealing as many wallets as possible before moving on. Probably tomorrow everywhere they'd been would be crawling with cops, but that was okay. They wouldn't need to be back for a bit. They'd just needed the extra money for tonight.

The last couple of hours they'd spent trudging round various thrift shops and second hand clothing stores, looking for anything that could even remotely be called a wedding dress. Eventually they'd struck . . . well, maybe not quite gold.

"It's a wedding dress," Rusty argued doubtfully, looking at the mass of white almost-silk spread over the table.

"It's got giant sunflowers on it," Danny pointed out, picking at the embroidery. "And the other side's all torn."

"You don't think Mike - "

" - he's going to want - "

" - well, we don't have - "

" - could you sew - "

" - by tomorrow?" Rusty frowned and shook his head. "Unlikely."

Danny sighed. "Well, we're stuck."

Rusty nodded and they sat in silence for a few moments until Mabel came over with their food. She smiled down at the sight of the wedding dress. "Something you want to tell me, boys?"

"We're helping out with the school play," Danny explained.

"Trying to help out," Rusty added.

"They need lots of - "

" - and a wedding dress - "

" - except they're going to - "

" - throw paint and so we found - "

" - but it's - "

" - daisies - "

" - sunflowers, and we can't - "

" - and there's a tear - "

" - and there's no _time,"_ Danny explained, a little wildly.

Mabel nodded, and smoothed out the wedding dress carefully. "You need it mended? And the embroidery unpicked? For tomorrow? I can do that."

There was a startled silence and then he and Rusty both spoke at once.

"Oh, Mabel, we weren't - "

" - we didn't mean - "

" - we'd _never_ \- "

" - we weren't _asking,"_ he insisted emphatically.

She straightened up and looked at each of them in turn. "Think I don't know that? Oh, sweethearts, I _know_ you weren't asking for help. But you should've been."

Danny blinked. "Mabel?" he asked hesitantly, not really sure what she was meaning.

"I can do this for you," she said insistently. "Let me do this for you."

He glanced across the table at Rusty and caught the slight shrug and the faint smile. Wasn't like they had a lot of other choices. "Okay," he said with a sigh and smiled up at her. "Thank you, Mabel."

"Thank you," Rusty echoed.

She looked at them tenderly and picked up the dress. "Come by before school tomorrow and I'll have it ready for you," she promised.

* * *

At half seven, having distributed the money amongst the football team, and given last minute instructions, they stood behind Jake and The Hulk on Norris' front porch.

Rusty managed to resist the urge to look at Danny. This was really the first point where things could go disastrously wrong.

After a moment, Norris opened the door, a wide smile on his face. "Hi guys, great to . . . " he trailed off, glaring past the football players.

"Hi, Norris," Jake said carefully. "It's really good of you to invite us. My dad says we can't play at my house anymore." Not bad, Rusty thought. Maybe a little lacking in spontaneity, but at least he was remembering his lies.

Norris was still frowning. "What are _they_ doing here?" he demanded, pointing at Rusty and Danny.

Jake shrugged. "They always play with us."

"They're cool," The Hulk rumbled.

Huh. An improvised lie from the most unlikely of corners.

"And we have the cards," Rusty added, holding a deck up by way of evidence.

"Can we come in or what?" The Hulk asked impatiently and with a grimace, Norris moved aside.

It was difficult not to show their relief as they followed Norris upstairs. There really had been a chance that he'd just refuse to let them in altogether. Fortunately he was out to impress.

The others – Eric, Sammy and Joe – were already there, sitting around Norris' bedroom, surrounded by snacks and soda. Rusty got the distinct impression that Norris had sent his mom out shopping.

He settled himself down and pulled some TastyKakes towards him. If he was going to have to listen to Eric and Sammy stammer their way through an explanation of the rules of the game, he was going to need some serious sugar reinforcements. After a second, Danny sat down next to him, and as Eric started talking, deliberately reached over him and took the snacks out of his reach. Oh. Oh, that was just mean. He tried to glare surreptitiously, but Danny was looking amused and annoying. He stared at the packet longingly, and felt his bottom lip quiver, just a little. With a sigh, and a look that proclaimed him a cheat, Danny passed the snacks back.

It was nice to win.

In the end, Norris seemed to pick up the rules faster than he would have expected. And, in the meantime, Jake had been looking round the room with an air of interest that was probably a little over-rehearsed. "Nice room, Norris." he said with carefully studied casualness. "Is that really a sword?" He nodded to the sword displayed on the wall over the desk; just where Doug had told them it would be.

Norris grinned. "Thanks. Yeah. My Dad got it for me. It's _genuine,"_ he boasted.

Genuine what? Rusty wondered. Beside him, Danny silently suggested that it was genuinely a sword.

"It's cool," The Hulk said, sounding impressed. "I wish that I had one."

Rusty resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. "We going to play?" he asked and there was a general movement of agreement.

Poker was fun when you knew how the cards were going to fall. He dealt. Twelve hands and the very least Norris got was a straight. They wanted him falling over himself with exuberance and overconfidence. That part was easy.

"I like this game," Norris giggled, pouring himself another glass of Dr Pepper.

The football players, who already knew what was coming, who weren't even playing with their own money, still looked disgruntled. More so than their acting talents had previously suggested. Apparently they just didn't like losing.

"Want to up the stakes?" Jake suggested, with a snarl that they hadn't practised.

"Sure!" Norris agreed. "Where's the harm, right?"

"Right," Danny nodded lightly. "It's only money."

Another ten hands and Norris was losing. Not disastrously, but definitely, and now he was getting any hand better than a pair of fives. The pile of money in front of him was getting smaller; the piles in front of the other footballers - especially The Hulk - were getting bigger. He and Danny weren't doing noticeably well. Good to avoid as much suspicion as possible.

One more hand till showtime and Norris was definitely struggling. Definitely sweating.

Eric frowned at Norris. "You don't have so much money anymore, you know," he said heavily and the taunt was audible and stupid.

"Shut up," Norris snapped. He glanced round the table and smiled wildly. "Still have enough to buy Ryan's mom. Right, Ryan?"

It hurt. It was stupid and it hurt and the pain of it burned somewhere deep inside him, and he still thought – knew – to reach out and grab Danny's arm, dig his fingers in, stop Danny from diving across the room and killing Norris.

No, he told them both, and buried the anger somewhere he'd never find it again. It wasn't what mattered.

"That's not cool, Norrie," The Hulk said, very, very quietly.

The room fell silent. Norris flushed red. "Yeah, well," he muttered.

Rusty's hands hovered over the cards. Danny was still coiled and tense and furious at his side. And right now he should be . . . right now he couldn't. Right now Danny's mind was nowhere near the con. Right now Danny was stuck on hurting, humiliating. He bit his lip and with a twist of his fingers and a stab of betrayal, gave Danny a three and a seven instead of the two aces Danny was expecting.

The look was subtle. The disbelief was painful. The anger froze his soul.

He dealt himself the cards Danny had been waiting for, took as much of Norris' money as was necessary and no more. Then, next hand, with Norris holding a heart flush and renewed confidence and The Hulk frowning at four kings and probably wondering why he couldn't have five, the stage was well and truly set.

"You need to stick in another ten if you want to stay in the game," he told Norris, quiet and disinterested.

Norris stared from his cards to his money. Clearly he didn't have another twenty. Clearly he didn't want this little fact to stop him.

"You could always throw something else in the pot," Sammy suggested, leaning against the bed, having folded some time ago. "Something of equal value. I won Jake's baseball mitt last month."

Jake glared at Sammy. "Too bad you still can't catch."

"I'll bet my sword," Norris said suddenly. "If you win, you get to keep it. Okay, David?" he asked, looking at The Hulk.

Rusty's mind went blank. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. They were supposed to steer him in the right direction. Get him to offer a loan of the sword. They weren't supposed to just take his treasure. Hell.

"Fine," The Hulk said immediately, probably relieved that no more lying was called for.

Numbly, Rusty watched as the cards were laid out, as Norris' expression dissolved into horror and disbelief, as The Hulk took all of the money and the sword with a satisfied smile.

Beside him, Danny was grinning invisibly.

Apparently he and Norris were alone in seeing a problem.

* * *

They walked to the abandoned house in silence and he didn't look at Rusty once. Not once. If they were going to argue, they were going to argue somewhere that no one would overhear. Somewhere that at least felt safe.

Still. It wasn't like the anger faded in any way, and the moment they were over the threshhold, he dropped the sword and snarled. "You cut me out!"

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, looking at his shoes.

He took a deep breath. "That's - "

" - what I had to do," Rusty cut in, still not looking at him.

"What you had to do?" he demanded, enunciating each word clearly. "You had to change the plan? You had to - "

" - stop you from doing something stupid?" Rusty looked up at him, a hint of anger on his face. "Yeah. I did."

"I wasn't - " he began to protest.

" - you weren't going to take Norris for everything he doesn't have? You weren't going to try and take everything he has, you weren't going to try and hurt him, humiliate him?" Rusty's voice had an edge of fury that he rarely heard.

He paused. He had been. Of course he had been. He sighed; anger suddenly gone. "He - "

" - I know." And Rusty's voice was gentle now.

"I can't . . . " He couldn't stand it. Couldn't bear to hear Norris, insulting, taunting, trying to hurt.

"I know," Rusty said again. "Think I don't?"

He sighed heavily. "There would have been consequences," he admitted.

"He would have come after us," Rusty agreed. He paused. "But I'm - "

" - don't be sorry," Danny interrupted. "It's all right. It is." It was.

Rusty grinned happily and turned his attention to the sword, holding it aloft. "Behold!" he proclaimed. "I have returned. I am the once and future king, rightful ruler of the Britons."

Danny couldn't help but laugh. "Think the fact that you're American is going to count against you, Rus'."

With a glare at him, Rusty tried again. "I am the once and future king," he started, in the worst Cary Grant impression Danny had ever heard.

He dissolved into helpless laughter, and immediately found a sword pointing at him.

"On guard, scurrilous knave," Rusty said sternly.

Leaping backwards, he grabbed a pole from the ground behind him. "I shall defend myself in the name of my lord."

Rusty paused. "What's your lord's name?"

"Bob," Danny answered immediately.

They glanced at each other for a moment, smiling, then set to enthusiastically, clashing sword against pole, making as much noise as possible.

"Do you know any prayers, my friend?" Rusty snarled.

Danny grinned, recognising the movie. "I'll say one for you!" he answered immediately.

They skipped merrily around the ground floor of the house, leaping over rubble and broken furniture, striving to look as dramatic as possible.

"I see you're dressed for a funeral," Danny declared, carefully trapping Rusty against the wall.

"On the contrary . . . " Rusty countered, as he dodged happily out from under the pole with an overacted flourish. "The funeral will be yours!"

"Don't try to carve 'Z's on anything," Danny counselled quickly. "We need to give Norris the sword back, remember?"

"You'd rather give him something sharp than something blunted?" Rusty blinked.

"Good point," Danny nodded. "Incidentally, do we really need to give him it back?"

"Yeah, Danny," Rusty sighed.

"Damn," he said with a slight smile. Would serve Norris right if they'd just kept it.

Rusty grinned and pirouetted away. "And that, my friend, ends a partnership that should never have begun!" Rusty declared.

"Hey!" Danny protested. "We can't both be Errol Flynn!"

"Different movies," Rusty argued. "I wasn't being Errol Flynn, I was being Captain Blood."

Danny sighed and then grinned. "You want to - "

" - always," Rusty agreed, and he leapt back a step and put on a deeper voice. "We have a duty to suppress disorder and arrest brawlers. Put up your swords and come along with us."

"Impossible," Danny smiled.

Rusty moved to stand beside him, confronting the imaginary enemy. "Unthinkable," he added.

"Unlikely," they said in unison, and charged.

It was always better to be on the same side. Always better to be together.

* * *

_The Drama Society presents "The Lizard Rises" A Play in Two Acts_

_Directed by Mike Katsen_

_Produced by Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan_

"How come you get top billing?" Rusty complained, peering over his shoulder at the program.

"Alphabetical," Danny explained, surreptitiously staring over Rusty's shoulder, into the audience.

"Oh," Rusty said, apparently mollified.

"Also it sounds better," Danny added, and he grinned at the look he got.

"You think it's going to be good?" Rusty asked presently.

Danny shrugged. "No idea. At any rate, Mike seemed happy - "

" - with everything," Rusty agreed. He smiled in a way that Danny just hated. "You realise that tomorrow we're going to need to figure out how to put it all back without anyone realising?"

He groaned. "That's tomorrow's problem," he said insistently. He pretended to stretch and looked to his other side.

"Should I be pretending not to notice that you're looking for something?" Rusty asked. "Or just not asking what?"

He looked down at the program and flushed. "I mentioned to Dad and Mom that we were involved in this. They said they might show up." He didn't bother saying that they'd said that they would show up. That they'd promised. And he certainly didn't bother saying that they'd lied.

"Danny." And Rusty knew it anyway.

"Doesn't matter," he pointed out. "It's not like the play means anything to us anyway, right?"

"Right," Rusty agreed, and Danny took comfort in the understanding, in the unconditional, in the fact that Rusty was _here_ and always would be.

"One of these days I'm going to . . . " He trailed off. One of these days he was going to stop hoping. One of these days he was going to stop expecting too much. One of these days he was going to stop dreaming the impossible.

The lights went down. Briefly Rusty's hand was in his. "Not as long as I can help it," Rusty promised him in a whisper.


End file.
